


Shards of Silver

by sparrow30



Series: Precious Metals [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, BDSM, Dom Drop, Dom Otabek Altin, Dom/sub, M/M, Punishment, Restraints, Safewords, Sensory Deprivation, Spanking, Sub Yuri Plisetsky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-04 23:14:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11565357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrow30/pseuds/sparrow30
Summary: Otabek can’t help thinking that he and Yuri are pretty good at this whole dating thing, all things considered. After almost a year together he’s starting to reallygetYuri, not just as a friend or boyfriend, but as a submissive as well. Which is probably why, when a bad scene catches them both by surprise, Otabek finds himself struggling to deal with the aftermath.What follows finds Yuri as the unexpected voice of reason, Victuuri as self-appointed relationship gurus, and Yakov losing his final fuck to give when it comes to skaters and their unending melodrama.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovely readers, I'm back with another installment in the Precious Metals series!
> 
> This was originally supposed to be a one-shot, but as you can see from the chapter count...things got a little bit out of hand! Again, this is completely written, but I'm going to be sticking to weekly updates because there's a fair bit of editing still to do.
> 
> Huge thank you to wingsofwriting and sockwizard for being the most amazing pre-readers and putting up with my pretty much constant whining, and all of the love in the world to Lilinas who has currently suffered through _four_ rewrites of chapter 2, and is poised to do the same for chapter 3 - this woman has the patience of a saint I swear!
> 
> Hope you all enjoy, let me know what you think!

For the first time ever, Otabek’s heart sinks when he hears Yuri’s telltale knock on his door.

 

He had been anticipating the knock from the moment he watched Yuri crash into Mila during practice this afternoon, both skaters too focused on learning their new routines to notice that their paths were on a collision course. Neither of them had been at fault, everyone on the ice - even Yakov - had agreed on that. Sometimes these things just happen, especially at the start of the training season when everyone is a little rusty. But while Yuri had skated away with minor bruises, Mila had been escorted off the ice by Yuuri, barely holding back tears as she cradled her arm to her chest.

 

Otabek had watched the spark die behind his boyfriend’s eyes as he finished the rest of the practice on autopilot, and had known that this moment was coming.

 

His suspicions are proven correct when he opens the door to find Yuri curled in on himself, arms wrapped around his chest and expression haunted as he fixes Otabek with a pleading stare. Otabek wordlessly steps aside so that Yuri can come in, taking his time to close the door behind them while he mentally prepares himself for what’s about to come next.

 

When he turns around Yuri is hovering in the middle of the room, weight shifting from foot to foot as his gaze lands on anything except Otabek. Otabek lets out a deep, steadying breath, trying to work out how to play this.

 

“It wasn’t your fault.”

 

Yuri’s eyes flick to him for just a moment, before darting quickly away. “It feels like it is,” he responds, voice hollow.

 

Otabek takes a cautious step forward, bringing his arm up slowly to wipe away an errant tear that has started trickling down Yuri’s cheek. He’s learnt to treat his boyfriend like a spooked alley cat when he’s like this. One wrong move will send the boy hissing and spitting out of the room faster than he can blink.

 

Yuri shudders at the touch, but lets his eyes slip closed as he exhales a heavy breath of air, and Otabek takes that as permission to loop his hand around to clasp gently but firmly at the nape of his neck.

 

“What do you need?” he asks.

 

Yuri’s eyes flicker open. “Punish me.”

 

Otabek freezes. He knows that Yuri needs _something_ from him now, knows that the younger boy won’t be able to settle until he’s worked through what happened on the ice this afternoon. But punishment?

 

“I told you, you haven’t done anything wrong...” Otabek begins, trailing off when he sees the hurt flash behind Yuri’s eyes. Deep and dark and all-consuming.

 

“Please,” Yuri begs, a hand coming up to clasp at Otabek’s forearm as he fixes Otabek with a pleading stare. “I need…I need it to hurt. Like I hurt Mila.”

 

Otabek lets out a soft huff, still unsure. This aspect of their relationship is still relatively new, for both of them, and sometimes it’s hard to know where the line lies. Part of him feels like he should try to convince Yuri that he wasn’t at fault this afternoon, rather than punish him. Another part of him knows that if he doesn’t offer Yuri this catharsis he’ll most likely seek it out in other, more destructive ways.

 

“Please, Beka,” Yuri pleads again, and his voice is so open, so plaintive, that Otabek knows he’s powerless to resist. If this is what Yuri needs right now, then that’s what Otabek will give him.

 

He slips his hand back to stroke at Yuri’s cheek once more, allows himself one tender moment before his cool mask slips into place. “Strip for me. Clothes in a neat pile,” he says, voice clipped and authoritative.

 

He can practically see Yuri deflate in front of him, tension leaking out of him like a burst dam. “Yes, sir,” he mumbles.

 

Fuck, he must really be in a bad way if he’s using that honorific already.

 

Otabek forces himself to step away from Yuri and move to sit down on the sofa behind them. He pointedly ignores Yuri as he undresses, folding each item of clothing and placing them in a neat pile next to the sofa as he does so. He doesn’t praise Yuri for following his instructions, maintaining his cool facade as he indicates towards his lap with a nod of his head.

 

“Lie down.” No shred of warmth in his voice, just cool, hard commands. He can see Yuri is already starting to go boneless from the effect they have on him. The younger boy slinks over and lays face down across Otabek’s lap, and Otabek takes a moment to stroke over the rounded globes of his ass.

 

He can’t help hissing in sympathy when he notices the large purple bruise spreading over Yuri’s left hip, spanning the whole way from the bottom of his ribcage to below his ass. “Yuri...”  he begins, his cool mask slipping in the face of such an angry bruise marking his boyfriend’s skin.

 

“It’s fine,” Yuri interrupts Otabek before he can say anything else. “It barely hurts.”

 

Otabek finds that unlikely given the size and color of the marking, but one look at Yuri’s challenging expression convinces him not to push any further.

 

“Fifteen hits. I expect you to count,” he says instead.

 

Yuri growls and twists to glare up at Otabek, all of the tension from earlier rushing back into his small frame. “Only fifteen? That’s not enough! I need more. Give me thirty, fifty, a hundred! I can take it, I _deserve_ it.”

 

Otabek gives him a sharp swat against his right cheek, and Yuri yelps but stops speaking. “That’s one extra for thinking you know better than me. Now be quiet and take what your dominant gives you.”

 

Yuri goes a bright shade of red and burrows his face in the pillow underneath him, mumbling something unintelligible. Otabek pinches the soft skin of Yuri’s thigh, earning him another hiss from the boy. “What was that Yura?” he orders.

 

Yuri lifts his head to glare up at Otabek again. “Yes sir,” he spits, like every word is being dragged out of him.

 

Otabek nods, not letting any emotion leak into his features as he starts to stroke up and down Yuri’s back, priming the boy’s skin before the first hit. “Are you ready?” he asks.

 

“Just get on with it,”  Yuri replies sullenly.

 

Otabek lets out a silent sigh. Clearly Yuri is going to have to be dragged down kicking and screaming today. He rolls his shoulders, giving himself a moment to sink fully into his role, then pauses his stroking and lands a solid hit squarely over Yuri’s right ass cheek. Yuri flinches, entire body tensing and then relaxing, and his muscles seem ever so slightly less tight than they had been moments earlier.

  
“One, sir,” he says obediently, and this time Otabek does praise him for following his instructions.

 

“Good boy,” he says, rubbing circles into the base of Yuri’s spine before drawing away and bringing his hand down again.  

 

He sets up a steady pace, his hits firm but not overwhelming. He makes sure to target his hits towards the right hand side of Yuri’s body, firmly away from that angry bruise. By hit seven, he knows Yuri has noticed.

 

Yuri whimpers as the slap lands right along the crack of his ass, and twists so that his left hip is slightly raised, his bruised side inching closer to being underneath Otabek’s hand. Otabek tsks disappointedly, and pushes gently down on Yuri’s hip, forcing him to roll flat again.

 

“Stay still Yuri,” he commands as his hand comes down once more.

 

Yuri tries the same thing for the next three slaps, and each time Otabek silently pushes him back into position before continuing. He knows Yuri is trying to rile him up into giving him a harsher punishment, and so refuses to comment on the boy’s misbehavior, simply continuing to land steady slap after steady slap across Yuri’s taut flesh.

 

By swat ten he can tell that Yuri is getting frustrated underneath him, his body getting tenser after each hit rather than more relaxed. He pointedly ignores Yuri’s cries for _harder, please Beka I can take it so much harder_ , keeping his swats firm and solid but not overwhelming. He’ll give his sub exactly what he needs, and not an ounce more.

 

It’s hit thirteen when Yuri finally takes matters into his own hands, and waits until the very last moment to twist. Otabek’s hand is already coming down and his reflexes aren’t fast enough to catch himself before his palm lands solidly across the very center of Yuri’s bruise.

 

The scream that tears from Yuri’s throat is so loud, so raw. It vibrates through the room, the world’s most horrific echo, and in the silence that sweeps in to fill its place time seems to stands perfectly, painfully still.

 

Otabek can only stare down in horror at his hand, still flush against Yuri’s skin. He can see purple peeking out through the spread of his fingers, the skin too hot, too tight underneath his palm. He can’t bring himself to draw his hand away, to be confronted with the damage he’s no doubt left on his boyfriend’s skin.

 

“Sir?” He can feel Yuri’s body quivering underneath him, but whether it’s in response to the impact or to Otabek’s sudden lack of movement he doesn’t know. It feels like everything is very far away all of a sudden, he’s watching events unfold through a thick layer of glass.

 

He snatches his hand back, and hisses at the angry handprint left behind. He did this, he inflicted this awful pain on his Yuri. What on earth had he been thinking?

 

“B- Beka? Are you okay?” He stares unseeing down at Yuri, who has twisted slightly to look up at him, brow furrowed and expression contrite. “I’m sorry I moved, it just wasn’t enough for…”

 

Otabek barely hears Yuri talking. For a long, long moment that seems to stretch out for eternity, all he can hear is the white noise ringing around his head. Cognitive reasoning has ground to a halt in his brain, his mind stuck replaying the slap again and again on endless loop. He closes his eyes, trying desperately to make it stop. It’s not enough, he can still see the scene on the inside of his eyelids.

 

He’s vaguely aware of Yuri’s voice in the background. He has no idea what he’s saying. He forces himself to take a deep breath, then another one. Slowly, oh so slowly, the white noise subsides, and he opens his eyes. He’s back in the room, with his submissive sitting sheepishly in front of him, still talking a mile a minute.

 

“Get up.” His voice is ice cold, void of all the emotion that he can feel roiling just underneath the surface. Yuri’s lips slam shut and he scrabbles to comply.

 

“Kneel.” Yuri hits the floor faster than Otabek can even process the words leaving his mouth.

 

“Stay.” Otabek disappears into the bedroom to retrieve the items that have sprung into his mind without saying another word. He feels strangely detached, like the dominant inside of him has completely taken control. It knows what to do when confronted with Yuri like this, even if Otabek doesn’t just yet.

 

He returns to the living room to see that Yuri hasn’t moved an inch, and is watching Otabek’s movements with laser focus. He supposes this side of Otabek’s dominance is new to them both.

 

With slow, purposeful steps Otabek walks over to his sub with his toys bundled in his arms. He starts with the rope, instructing Yuri to clasp his elbows with opposite hands before binding his forearms together. Next is the length of fabric that he ties around Yuri’s forehead like a bandana, just above his eyes. Finally come his noise-cancelling headphones, the heavy duty ones he splurged on a few years back for when he’s DJ’ing. He positions them around Yuri’s neck. All the while Yuri just watches; he either doesn’t have a comeback (for once in his life) or has decided that now is not the time for it. Good, he’s learning.

 

Once he has Yuri set up how he wants, he comes around to crouch in front of the younger boy. Yuri’s eyes are wide. There’s a hint of hesitance in them, but not enough for him to use either of his safewords. Otabek wonders if he’ll still feel the same way once this is all over.

 

“This is partly my fault,” he begins. Part of him wants to apologize, to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness for hurting Yuri. But that’s not what Yuri needs right now, so this small acknowledgement is all that he’ll allow himself. For now. “I should have known better to indulge you with punishment when I knew you had done nothing wrong.” Yuri frowns, and he opens his mouth to argue, but Otabek holds up a hand and he slams his mouth shut again. “You didn’t need punishment earlier, but now you do. You disobeyed a direct order, Yura, and as a result I hurt you, in a way that wasn’t within the bounds of our contract.”

 

It’s a struggle to keep his voice steady, when such a large part of him still wants to crumble. But that’s not what Yuri needs right now. What Yuri needs is to learn that this new facet of their relationship isn’t just about pain, and punishment.

 

“If you don’t trust me to give you what you need, then I can’t help you, Yura. When you agreed to become my sub that meant handing yourself over to me completely, letting me take control when that dark part of you decides you need to atone.” He doesn’t usually make big speeches like this, and from the shocked look on Yuri’s face he knows it’s a surprise to him as well. He forces himself to continue though, before he loses his nerve and squanders this moment that might well be a turning point in their relationship.

 

“You don’t get to decide what you need in order to find redemption, Yuri. That’s my job now. This isn’t a punishment for earlier, there will be no more punishment for earlier. This is because you disobeyed me.” He reaches out to clasp Yuri’s chin firmly between his thumb and forefinger, leaning in so that their eyes are locked. “Do you understand me, Yura?”

 

Yuri tries to nod, but finds his movements hampered by Otabek’s grip, “Yes, yes I understand,” he says earnestly, but Otabek isn’t done yet.

 

“Why am I punishing you?” he asks again.

 

“Because I disobeyed you,” Yuri recites diligently.

 

“And?” he presses.

 

For a moment Yuri looks confused, “And...and nothing else?” he finally says, expression hesitant, like he’s still not sure what the right answer is.

 

Otabek lets out a soft exhale, treating the younger boy to a small smile and a quick kiss on the lips as a reward. “Very good. Now, you’re going to have ten minutes on your own. I will be in the room the whole time, but trust me when I say your safeword is the only way you’ll get out of this in any less time than that.” He pauses to reach into his pocket, drawing out his phone and quickly setting up a timer, ignoring the confused expression on Yuri’s face. He places the phone on Yuri’s knee. “It will buzz every minute, so you can keep track.”

  
“Beka?” Yuri says questioningly, obviously still unsure about what’s about to happen. Otabek ignores his question and reaches up to pull the makeshift blindfold down over his eyes. He hears Yuri gasp as understanding dawns, feels his whole body tense in anticipation.

 

“Ten minutes,” he reiterates, then pulls the headphones up and over Yuri’s ears before retreating to the other side of the room.

 

Otabek settles himself on the sofa, careful to keep his movements to a minimum. He watches as Yuri shifts, testing out the extent of his bondage. He can’t see his expression underneath the blindfold, but he can tell by the set of his shoulder that his boyfriend is almost certainly frowning.

 

“Ota-” Yuri starts before quickly slamming his mouth shut, entire body tensing. Otabek can’t help smiling slightly at the reaction - he knows from experience how surreal it is to speak and not be able to hear yourself.

 

For the rest of the first minute Yuri squirms and pouts. He’s restless and clearly not yet understanding why this is considered a punishment. Otabek watches him closely, keeping an eye out for any of his tells that mean he’s about to safeword out.

 

The phone on Yuri’s lap buzzes to let them both know that one minute is gone, and that’s when everything changes.

 

Otabek watches as Yuri goes completely still, his head slowly tipping down toward the source of the buzzing as if in shock. He probably had been thinking that most of the ten minutes had already gone by - sensory deprivation has a funny way of manipulating time like that.

 

It’s an effort not to react as Yuri starts to whip his head back and forth, like he can scent out where Otabek is in the room. “Otabek? Are you still there?”

 

Otabek keeps his mouth firmly shut, eyes fixed on the boy kneeling in front of him.

 

“Beka?” Yuri’s voice sounds more desperate this time. “Beka please…” Yuri starts writhing against his bonds in earnest now, letting out distraught whimpers as Otabek forces himself to continue to ignore him.

 

Buzz. Two minutes gone.

 

“P- please, don’t leave me.” Yuri’s voice is practically a whisper now, and Otabek fingers clutch at the sofa to stop himself from getting up and going to him. “I’m … I’m sorry okay, I’ll never do it again.”

 

God, this is torture. Otabek forces himself to continue watching as Yuri’s breath starts hitching, little gasps erupting out of him as he stammers and pleads. “I promise, I’ll be so good from now on. Please Beka, please come back.”

 

Buzz.

 

Yuri lets out a full blown sob, and Otabek bites his lip so hard he tastes blood as thick tears start to roll out from underneath the blindfold, trickling down Yuri’s cheek and collecting on his chin. “Don’t- Don’t leave me on my own. I can’t- I can’t do this without you, Beka.”

 

“I need- I need you Beka. Just you.” Otabek can’t help the whimper that escapes him at that. Yuri’s finally starting to work through some of the issues that brought him to Otabek’s door demanding pain in the first place, but Otabek doesn’t know if he’ll reach the point he needs to get to before Otabek completely cracks.

 

The next few minutes feel unending, as Yuri shudders and pleads and his tears start to soak through the blindfold. By the halfway point Otabek has reached his breaking point. He doesn’t know how much longer he can sit and watch his beautiful boyfriend disintegrate in front of him, doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to hold out.

 

Buzz. Six minutes.

 

Just when Otabek thinks he can’t take it any longer, the shift that he’s been waiting for finally, _finally_ clicks. One second Yuri’s body is quaking under the sheer force of his sobs, and then the next, stillness.

 

Otabek watches with bated breath as Yuri lets out one or two last gasps, and then settles. His shoulders come up and back, broadening his chest. He’s still breathing heavily, but it’s started to slow down. Each breath is now full and deep, rather than on the cusp of panic. His chin tips up and he faces the room with determination, every inch the soldier Otabek has come to know and love.

 

Otabek lets out the breath he didn’t know he had been holding as the tension starts to seep out of Yuri’s body, whatever inner battle he’s been fighting finally over. Gone is the pain of before, flushed out of Yuri’s body along with his tears. In its wake it’s left acceptance, resilience, fortitude. He’s suddenly overwhelmed with relief, leg-weakening in its intensity. He made the right call, Yuri is at peace despite everything that happened, both on the ice and afterwards.

 

He doesn’t know what he would have done if it had turned out he hadn’t. He chooses not to think about that just now.

 

Otabek can feel his heart swelling as he watches Yuri sink into his body once again, his expression relaxing bit by tiny bit. The phone buzzes again and Otabek swear he can see a small smile flit at Yuri’s lips.

 

This, this right here is why he loves being Yuri’s dominant. Nobody else in the whole world knows just how to break down the walls of destructive anger that encase Yuri Plisetsky like a suit of armor. More importantly, nobody else knows exactly how to put him back together again afterwards. Being able to see Yuri as open and vulnerable as he is right this very moment? That’s a gift for Otabek’s eyes only.

 

Buzz. Ten minutes.

 

Otabek is off the sofa and crouching in front of Yuri in an instant, one hand stroking up and down Yuri’s arm as the other gently pulls off the headphones and blindfold.

 

“I’m here, I’m here. You did so well for me Yura.” Otabek mutters a steady stream of comforting words as he reaches behind Yuri to tug on the quick release knot in the rope. The cord spirals off Yuri’s wrists into a pile on the floor, but Yuri makes no move to bring his arms in front of him. He stares unblinkingly at Otabek, that small smile still tugging at his lips.

 

Otabek reaches up to cup Yuri’s cheek, hyper aware of the flushed red skin underneath his palm from all the tears that have been spent. “Yuri, you with me sweetheart?”

 

Yuri nods slowly, his eyes slipping closed as he nuzzles his cheek into Otabek’s palm. Otabek laughs softly; Yuri’s completely under. Won’t be back for a while if this open show of affection is anything to go by.

 

“Okay, up we get,” he says, taking care to keep contact with Yuri at all times as he shifts around to slip one arm underneath his legs and the other under his armpits. He stands up with a grunt and Yuri lets out a small gasp at the movement, wrapping his arms around Otabek’s neck and burrowing his face into his chest. Otabek lets out another soft laugh and presses a quick kiss to Yuri’s forehead. Normally Yuri wouldn’t let Otabek do this in a million years. He’d hiss and twist and probably do them both an injury trying to get down.

 

Otabek makes a mental note to never tell Yuri how clingy he gets when he’s under - he doesn’t ever want to lose this.

 

He walks them both through to the bedroom and deposits Yuri gently on the bed. He quickly strips out of his own clothes - he knows how much Yuri hates it when he comes back and he’s the only one naked - and then climbs onto the mattress next to Yuri, who’s been staring up at him with big pouty eyes ever since he put him down. He grins and kisses Yuri lightly on the nose, his smile only getting wider when Yuri’s face wrinkles in confusion, leaning back against the headboard and gently pulling him into his side.

 

Yuri moves happily, pillowing his head on Otabek’s chest without complaint. Otabek strokes one hand up and down Yuri’s spine while he uses the other to pick up his boyfriend’s hands and inspect his wrists, making sure there’s no chafing from the ropes. Yuri is lying on his right side so his bruise - and that horrible outline of a handprint that doesn’t seem to want to fade -  is all too visible. Otabek makes a point not to look at it as he tends to the rest of Yuri’s body; he doesn’t think he’s quite ready to deal with the fallout from that just yet.

 

It takes about half an hour for Yuri to start to get restless, wriggling and fussing as Otabek continues to stroke soothingly up and down his back. When he finally comes back to himself enough to shove Otabek’s hand away, Otabek responds by nudging Yuri’s shoulder so that the other boy rolls off him.

 

“Welcome back,” he says as Yuri repositions himself against the headboard, “How are you feeling?”

 

Yuri tilts his head to the side, considering. “Drained,” he finally admits. “That...that was pretty intense.”

 

Otabek nods. “In a good way?” he can’t help asking. His inner dominant was so sure that this was what Yuri needed, but now that they’re out the other side, his usual insecurities are starting to creep in.

 

Yuri nods adamantly. “The beginning...the beginning was really rough. I almost tapped out after the fourth minute … or at least I think it was four minutes, it’s all a bit hazy.”

 

Otabek nods slowly. “I noticed,” he says, not wanting to put any words in Yuri’s mouth. It’s a testament to how far under Yuri was, the last tendrils of subspace still lapping at his heels, that he’s being so candid with Otabek. He doesn’t want to do anything to jeopardize the cautious honesty that’s on display.

 

“But once I got past that bit,” Yuri’s gotten a faraway look in his eyes, and Otabek thinks he might be more talking to himself at this point. “It was so quiet. Just me and my thoughts. You were there but you weren’t there, and I was able to... to _see_. I could see everything so clearly. What we have, and why I need it so much.” He twists his head to lock eyes with Otabek again, all of a sudden completely back in the room. “Thank You Beka, I mean it.”

 

Otabek has to cough roughly to clear the lump that has somehow formed in his throat. He reaches up to stroke his knuckles gently along Yuri’s jawline, feeling something hot and proud coil in him as Yuri lets out a soft gasp and leans into the touch. “You’re welcome,” he says, voice scratchy. And then, before he changes his mind, “We still need to talk about earlier, though.”

 

Yuri scrunches up his face. “Do we have to?”

 

“Yes.” Otabek wishes they didn’t, wishes they could just sit and cuddle and pretend the whole mess of earlier never happened. But that’s not good for either of them.

 

Yuri huffs but doesn’t argue further, for which Otabek is grateful. He turns to face Otabek, expression surprisingly open given the conversation Otabek is forcing them to have.

 

“I’m sorry I twisted your arm like that,” Yuri says, completely honest, completely open. Otabek has to blink once, twice, before he fully processes what Yuri is saying. He was fully expecting to have to drag an acknowledgement out of Yuri kicking and screaming.

 

“Apology accepted,” he forces himself to say when the silence has stretched almost long enough to be uncomfortable. “But it’s my fault as well. I shouldn’t have let you convince me that punishment was what you needed.” He gives a small sigh, still cross with himself for not catching up to Yuri’s headspace sooner. “I should have realized you weren’t in the right state of mind for it.”

 

“We’re … we’re both still learning,” Yuri says hesitantly, once hand coming out to clasp Otabek’s in front of him. “You don’t...you don’t want to end this do you?”

 

Otabek’s head whips to face Yuri so fast it hurts a little, and he feels his heart crack at how much asking that question has clearly cost his boyfriend - he can see the worry in every line of his beautiful face.

 

“No, no of course not,” he says quickly, relieved to see the tension immediately leave Yuri’s features. “But…” he begins, then pauses. This is important. He needs to get the wording right so Yuri understands just how important.  “But you need to promise me you won’t pull something like that again. You can’t just decide to put us in a situation where we’re suddenly outside the bounds of our contract without any sort of discussion first. A relationship like ours won’t work, _can’t_ work if you decide to take matters into your own hands like that. Do you understand, Yuri?”  

 

Yuri nods rapidly both hands coming out to clasp around Otabek’s now. “I know, and I really am sorry. You believe me right Beka?”

 

Otabek lets out a hot puff of air, pulling one hand out of Yuri grasp so he can pull the younger boy close into his side again. “Just promise me you won’t do it again,” he mumbles into his hairline.

 

“I promise I won’t do it again,” Yuri replies, utterly sincere.


	2. Chapter 2

He does it again. Less than a month later.

 

It’s Otabek who suggests that they scene this time - a fact that comes back to haunt him again and again in the days that follow. 

 

He’d been looking for an excuse to try some more intense play with Yuri, ever since their last punishment scene got derailed. They’ve scened together since then, but by some sort of unspoken agreement they’ve been sticking to the more lightweight, fluffy forms of play. It’s not that Otabek doesn’t enjoy the lighter stuff - of course he does - but he’s starting to feel an itch under his skin that has him desperate to prove that he can still be the strict dominant he knows Yuri adores. That little voice in his head urging him to show Yuri just how good it can be, when done right.

 

He’d been watching Yuri all throughout practice that day, seen the way he had touched down on the ice with his left hand over and over again while trying to land his quad lutz. Noticed the darkness that had started to cloud behind his boyfriend’s eyes by the time Yakov finally called time on their afternoon session. He’d waited until Yuri had finally come out of the shower room, knowing that the younger boy would stew in there until everybody else had long gone. Yuri had barely stepped back into the locker room before Otabek had had him pinned up against the wall, his fully clothed thigh slotting between Yuri’s wet legs, grinding the rough fabric of his jeans harshly against Yuri’s soft but rapidly hardening cock. He had claimed Yuri’s lips in a bruising kiss, laying claim to his boyfriend’s mouth until he felt him go lax and pliant underneath him. Only then had he drawn away, telling Yuri “My apartment, fifteen minutes,” in a voice that radiated the dominance he was feeling. 

 

Then he had left Yuri, alone and panting in the locker room, and returned to his apartment to wait expectantly for his knock.

 

Which is how they had ended up here, with Yuri kneeling naked on the floor in front of him, one long length of rope tying his ankles together and another length wrapped around his forearms. Yuri’s elbows are practically touching behind his back, his chest wide and his back bowed under the pressure the bondage is exerting on his form. He’s breathing heavily as Otabek walks slowly around him, appraising him from every angle. Yuri starts to crane his neck so he can track Otabek’s movements, like he somehow thinks Otabek won’t notice.

 

“Eyes front, Yura.” Yuri’s head whips back round, chin jutting proudly forward as he locks his gaze on the opposite wall. Otabek nods once, but doesn’t offer any words of encouragement. Not yet.

 

“Knees apart,” Yuri rushes to comply, spreading his legs so wide Otabek knows it must be torture on his thighs. Yuri doesn’t object though, doesn’t even hesitate. Gone is all the usual bite and snark, replaced with an overwhelming desire to please, to prove he can be perfect for Otabek.

 

Otabek walks back around in front of Yuri and grabs his chin roughly, tilting his head upward to meet his gaze. Yuri whimpers at the sudden movement, but doesn’t resist as his neck curves. 

 

“Are you going to be good for me?” Otabek asks, even though it’s not really a question but an order. He can see from the slightly glazed expression on Yuri’s face that he’s already sinking, his usually iron-fisted grasp on his body relaxing command by tiny command.

 

When Yuri doesn’t immediately reply Otabek jerks his hand, making Yuri’s head shake. “Answer me,” he says firmly.

 

“Yes, yes sir,” Yuri replies, his voice already slurring with pleasure.

 

Except...no that’s not right. There’s an edge to Yuri’s voice, like he’s holding something back. 

 

Otabek frowns and tips Yuri’s head even higher, until Yuri practically has to bob on his thighs to meet him. “You know I don’t like it when you keep things from me, Yura,” he growls possessively.

 

Yuri whimpers and his eyes dart away from Otabek’s face before flicking immediately back, and now that Otabek looks closer there’s something not quite right with Yuri’s expression either. His eyes aren’t foggy with pleasure, they’re foggy with…

 

“Yuri, are you hurting?” Otabek asks. He makes sure to keep his tone cold, detached, like the only reason he’s asking is to make sure Yuri isn’t keeping secrets from his dominant.

 

Yuri whimpers at Otabek’s tone, his brows knitting together to produce three little lines between them, but still he doesn’t say anything.

 

“ _ Yuri _ ,” Otabek commands again, exaggerating the edge in his voice as he tries not to let the concern he’s starting to feel seep into it.

 

“It’s...it’s my shoulder,” Yuri finally admits, his voice cracking as if he’s admitted something shameful. 

 

Otabek lets out a small sigh of relief. That’s okay, that’s to be expected. The position he’s tied Yuri in is designed to exert pressure on his upper torso and shoulders; it’s only natural that Yuri will be feeling the strain after so long restrained, especially after a gruelling practice. He lets his fingers trace up to stroke Yuri’s cheek as he shakes off the creeping discomfort that had started to make it’s way up his spine.

 

“Is this position hard for you, baby?” he croons, letting a teasing edge slip into his voice. He hadn’t strictly planned for this scene to hurt, but he’s happy to give Yuri this taste of suffering, let the strain on his muscles distract him from any emotional pain threatening to put down roots.

 

“I...I can feel it sliding,” Yuri stammers and Otabek can’t help frowning at that. That’s...not what he expected Yuri to say.

 

“Use your words Yura,” he prompts, trying hard not to jump to any conclusions.

 

“My...my shoulder... I dislocated it...when I... when I was eleven.” Yuri’s breath is coming in harsh pants now, every word seemingly a struggle as tension ripples through his body. “I jarred it during practice. So many times. I can feel it...sliding...slipping away.” 

 

Fuck.

 

Oh god, oh  _ fuck _ . A dislocated shoulder, that’s...that’s a serious injury. Otabek has watched skaters leave the rink with dislocated shoulders before; it’s a very real issue with hospital time and physio. Like when Mila had to be helped off the ice last month, except something is wrong with his memory because suddenly it’s not Mila leaning on Yuuri for support it’s … it’s  _ Yuri _ . Fuck, that’s Yuri on the floor in front of him, it’s Yuri’s shoulder that’s about to dislocate and oh god, what has he done? 

 

“Yuri, what the fuck?!” Otabek shouts, not thinking about what he’s saying as he lurches forward to tug on the emergency release knot binding Yuri’s arms together, heart hammering in his chest as he watches the ropes fall to the floor in a messy pile. Yuri’s gaze flicks up from the floor, his expression crumpling in reaction to Otabek - to his dominant - suddenly shouting at him, and Otabek lets out a moan like a wounded animal. No, no that’s not what he meant at all. He’s not shouting _ at _ Yuri, he’s just shouting  _ near _ Yuri, because he almost dislocated his boyfriend’s shoulder and nothing about that sentence is okay.

 

He practically flings himself across to the other side of the room in his haste to put some distance between them. Oh god, what has he done? Oh god, oh god _ , oh god. _

 

A phantom scream echos in his brain, high and sharp and laced with pain and Otabek hates that he recognizes it, feels sick at the fresh reminder that he now knows exactly what Yuri’s screams of pain sound like. He flexes his hand, feeling his palm tingle as he remembers how it felt for it to come down across tender skin. He can still see the imprint of his hand over Yuri’s bruise, still feel the ripple of the impact as it vibrated all the way up his arm, still hear Yuri’s scream ringing, ringing in his ears.

 

He had thought at the time that there was no way for him to ever feel worse about a scene. Now he knows how stupidly naive that thought was. This isn’t something so simple as a slap on an existing bruise. A dislocated shoulder isn’t something you just shake off, apologize and move on from. Another few minutes and Otabek might have wiped out the rest of Yuri’s season.

 

He can practically see it in his mind’s eye. The fraught ride to the hospital, Yuri unconscious and white as a sheet in the back of the ambulance while Otabek clutches his lifeless hand and apologizes again and again, the disapproval on the emergency responder’s face clear and unfiltered. He can imagine the calls he’d have to make to Yakov and Lilia, hear their disappointed tones as he explains the situation from the waiting room, having just watched his boyfriend get rushed away into the depths of the hospital so that the doctors can try and undo the damage he’s done. And then later; Yuri sitting in an unfamiliar bed, surrounded by the stark white of a hospital room as a doctor explains to him that his stupid, destructive,  _ careless  _ boyfriend has taken him out of commission for the rest of the season. 

 

He watches in horror as Yuri slowly turns his head to find him, still caught somewhere in the first flushes of subspace but expression starting to crumple as he seeks out a dominant that’s nowhere to be found.

 

Another memory flashes through his brain; Yuri on his knees, crying and pleading.  _ “Don’t leave me on my own. I can’t do this without you.”  _ He’d done that to Yuri. Made him hurt and sob and break and  _ fuck _ , how the hell did he not see how wrong that was at the time?

 

“Sir?” Yuri’s voice, small and confused cuts through Otabek’s thoughts, the word tingling uncomfortably up his spine. He watches, wide-eyed, as Yuri gingerly rolls his shoulder, large circles that test out his range of his motion now that he’s not restrained.

 

Otabek presses the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, trying unsuccessfully to ground himself. He doesn’t know how they got here. Yuri can be reckless, sure, but he’s never been careless with his career. Otabek remembers how frustrated Yuri had been the first time he took things too far in the bedroom and paid the price for it on the ice the next day. And Yuri has been doing so much better recently. Far better than Otabek, apparently. It doesn’t makes sense; even though Otabek clearly fucked up - stupid, careless, not treating Yuri’s submission like the precious gift that it is - it doesn’t explain why Yuri would ever allow himself to be put in a situation that might take him out of the season, scene or not.

 

_ “Promise me you won’t pull something like this again.”  _ Otabek’s own words whisper at him from the edges of his memory, and Otabek feels white hot panic stab at his insides. He had said that, those exact words. He’d told Yuri that they might have to stop what they do together if things went badly again. What if all he’d succeeded in doing was make Yuri scared to contest any part of a scene? Is that why Yuri hadn’t used his…

 

“Red.” The word tears out of him, raw and distraught. “Red, Yuri, oh god I’m so sorry.” He vaguely feels the press of the wall behind him as he slides down to the floor, unable to think of anything past how close he came to completely destroying his boyfriend’s body, destroying the career he’s worked so hard for.

 

Yuri would never forgive him, Otabek wouldn’t even want him to.

 

“Si- Beka? Beka, it’s okay.” Yuri’s voice sounds like it’s coming from very far away, and it’s only when he discovers that he doesn’t  _ actually  _ know where Yuri is that he realizes his eyes have somehow slipped closed. It feels like a mammoth task to open them, and when he does he’s surprised to see Yuri’s face mere inches away from his own, looking at him with concern.

 

“Are you with me?” Yuri’s voice is calm, steady. His eyes are bright and sharp again, all traces of subspace gone. Another wave of guilt flushes through Otabek at the realization that he’s basically forced Yuri to come back up before he’s ready in order to make sure he’s okay. He lets out another moan and tries to avert his gaze.

 

“Hey, hey look at me,” Yuri’s hand is firm against his cheek, pressing his face back round, and he’s forced to meet his boyfriend’s gaze again. “I’m fine, see?” Yuri rolls his shoulder in a few wide circles to emphasize his point. “No harm done.”

 

“I hurt you,” Otabek says, unable to get past that fact. 

 

Yuri frowns, tilting his head to the side. “You look like Katsudon does when he’s about to have a panic attack.” A sudden look of concern flitters across Yuri’s features and he brings his hand up to frame the other side of Otabek’s face, peering at him intently. “Oh crap, you’re not having a panic attack are you? Because I don’t remember  _ any  _ of the tricks Victor taught me for dealing with that sort of shit.”

 

Yuri’s entirely inappropriate response to the prospect of Otabek having a panic attack is so endearing, so completely  _ Yuri _ , that for the first time Otabek feels like he can focus on something other than the guilt that’s roiling inside his chest, threatening to overwhelm him. He forces out a small smile, one hand coming up to cover Yuri’s. “I’m okay,” he says, then repeats it again. “I’m okay.” 

 

Maybe if he says it enough times he’ll be able to convince himself.

 

Yuri’s frown deepens, clearly equally unconvinced, but for once he chooses not to argue. Instead his expression turns almost bashful, “I’m … I’m really sorry Beka,” he says quietly.

 

Otabek draws away, horrified. “Oh. No,  _ no  _ Yuri. This is all on me. I promised you I would look after you, that I would keep you safe and … and I …” he almost can’t continue, his throat too thick with emotion to let any more words escape. “I can’t believe I did that to you. I can’t believe I didn’t notice.” His voice cracks, and he has to look away from Yuri again as the shame threatens to erupt from him through his tear ducts.

 

“You did notice,” Yuri says firmly, growling when Otabek only huffs derisively in response. “I’m serious, Beka. It’s my fault for trying to hide it from you. There was nothing else you should have done. Nothing else you  _ could  _ have done.”

 

Silence falls between them, sharp and uncomfortable. There’s more to be said, Otabek knows that, but he can’t seem to get the words out past the lump in his throat. Yuri doesn’t seem to know what to say either, the uncertainty clearly visible in his expression. After a long moment Yuri gives a soft sigh, clearly coming to some sort of internal decision. He pushes himself up to standing, holding out a hand for Otabek to take. “Come on, let’s go to bed and cuddle. I think we both need a bit of TLC after that.”

 

Otabek is hesitant to take Yuri’s hand, but as soon as he does Yuri is pulling him upright with a surprising amount of strength. The warmth of Yuri’s hand enveloping his own is almost scalding in its intensity, and he jerks his hand away as soon as he gains his balance. Yuri does a good job of pretending not to notice.

 

They get ready for bed in uncomfortable silence. Everything ended so...abruptly this evening. Otabek feels off-kilter, out of sync with the world and with Yuri. He knows that there are things they need to do, things that have to be addressed in the wake of a bad scene. Hell, he’s spent hours reading up on them in anticipation of this exact moment, but right now he can’t seem to remember any of the steps. 

 

Light fingers brush against his elbow and Otabek startles, turning to face Yuri who’s still looking at him with concern. The younger boy clearly isn’t sure how to proceed either, his expression wary as he nods towards the small bathroom that connects to his bedroom. “Do you want to go first?” he asks cautiously. He looks like he wants to say more when Otabek simply shakes his head, but apparently decides against it, stroking Otabek’s elbow again lightly before slipping into the bathroom. 

 

He emerges less than five minutes later, clearly having stuck to the bare minimum of pre-bed routines, and the two of them silently swap places, the air heavy between them. Otabek quickly brushes his teeth, resolutely ignoring his reflection in the mirror as he does so. He doesn’t think he can face himself just yet.

 

Yuri is already in bed when he returns, the comforter pulled all the way up to his neck as he watches Otabek cross the room with large eyes. Otabek slides into his side of the bed, his entire body tensing as their legs touch. He jerks away roughly, twisting to turn off the bedside lamp so he doesn’t have to watch as Yuri’s expression shutters.

 

He lies down on his side facing away from his boyfriend, knees up to his chest and arms wrapped firmly around them so they won’t be able to stray during the night. He knows Yuri said bed and cuddles, but his brain is still screaming at him that he needs to make up for his utter carelessness earlier. He needs to be careful with Yuri now, so very careful. He almost broke him once tonight, he can’t do it again. It’s easier to stay like this, facing away from Yuri. Less temptation this way.

 

He feels a soft hand on his shoulder, and his whole body tenses yet again. “I love you, Beka,” Yuri’s voice is calm and sure, a sharp counterpoint to the jumbled emotions still roiling around Otabek’s brain. The urge to turn around and bury himself in the warmth of Yuri’s conviction is so great that his resolve very nearly crumples. 

 

But he crossed a line tonight, and he doesn’t know how to come back from it yet, so he simply grips his legs tighter, praying for sleep to take him quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you all thought the scene in the last chapter was the one from the summary didn't you! #sorrynotsorry


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this a day early since I'm not sure I'll have time tomorrow.
> 
> I'm so sorry for this chapter...it gets better from here I promise!

The last thing Otabek thinks before he falls asleep is that maybe, hopefully, he’ll wake up in the morning and everything will feel normal again. Maybe he’ll feel a bit silly for overreacting, but he and Yuri will talk it through and everything will return to how it was before.

 

He should have known that things wouldn’t be that easy.

 

Instead when Otabek wakes up the next day at half past five, well before his alarm is set to go off, he feels somehow, impossibly, worse. The acute panic of the night before has gone, at least, but in its place is a weight in his chest that feels like it’s put down roots. He rolls over and feels his heart stutter as he takes in the sight of Yuri still fast asleep next to him - limbs sprawled, hair in disarray. Without the layer of sass that conscious Yuri wraps around himself like armor, he looks so serene, so peaceful. Otabek feels a wave of nausea as he remembers how pale Yuri had looked in those final few moments.

 

He had been so sure that this side of their relationship was good for Yuri, that it offered him a healthy way to exercise some of his more self-destructive tendencies. He remembers how incredulous Yuri had looked when he first suggested it to him, this strange new dynamic he’d previously only glimpsed in bad pornos. Yuri had almost balked, but Otabek had pushed for it, encouraged Yuri to give it a go because he had been so confident that he could give Yuri what he needed.

 

Now, he’s not so sure.

 

He had promised Yuri that he was safe with him, that Otabek would look after him even when he wasn’t in any state look after himself. It’s his job as Yuri’s dominant to catch him before he goes too far, but this time he let him fall. And the worst part, the part that he’s only just comprehending now, in the cold light of day, is that he doesn’t even know if this is the first time. Just because this time was the most catastrophic, it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s the first time he’s dropped the ball on Yuri’s well-being. Has he really been helping like he thought? Or has he simply been giving Yuri an Otabek-sanctioned way to hurt himself this whole time?

 

It’s too much for him to think about. A fundamental part of their relationship is now surrounded by ambiguity, and Otabek has no idea how to even begin processing that.  He grabs his clothes and gets changed in the living room so as to not wake his boyfriend, slipping out the door before the sun has properly risen in the sky. An hour later, when the alarm in his room goes off and Yuri blearily awakens to an empty room, he’s already working up a sweat on the ice.

 

He’s panting heavily, taking a long swig of water at the edge of the rink, when Yuri arrives for practice along with the rest of the Russian team. Their eyes lock as soon as Yuri steps onto the ice, and Otabek feels his entire body stiffen, panic flooding through him as he watches Yuri’s features rearrange themselves into a frown.

 

He’s not ready, not yet.

 

He hastily screws the lid back onto his water bottle, attributing the slight shake of his hands to fatigue - he’s been pushing himself hard, too hard this morning - and quickly skates back to the middle of the rink.

 

He makes a good show of avoiding Yuri during practice without it being too obvious to any of their rink-mates. There are only a few times where he has to abort a jump or step sequence when it becomes apparent that it will take him far too close to his boyfriend. Yakov reams him out for the missteps, but it’s better than the alternative, he thinks.

 

When time is called on practice he doesn’t bother to shower, doesn’t even bother changing out of his sweat-soaked practice gear. He’s out of the locker room, out of the building, before the rest of the skaters have even left the ice.

 

He spends the evening buried underneath a blanket on the sofa, resolutely ignoring his phone. Yuri had texted him once that morning - _“Where did you go?”_ \- but hadn’t followed up with anything else for the rest of the day. A small part of Otabek is surprised at Yuri’s unexpectedly mature response of giving him the space he needs to think, but most of him is just grateful that he hasn’t had to deal with the guilt of not replying to Yuri’s messages until now.

 

Apparently Yuri’s tolerance for being ignored runs out around dinnertime, as his phone has been buzzing increasingly more insistently for the last two hours. He can’t bring himself to look. He doesn’t even know what he’s more afraid of, that Yuri is texting to say that he forgives him for almost destroying his career through his own obliviousness, or to say that he doesn’t.

 

It’s late in the evening when he hears a knock at the door. He knows who it is, of course, and the weight inside his chest writhes and grows, restricting his breathing.

 

The knock turns into a pounding, and still he sits paralyzed on the sofa.

 

“Beka? Beka I know you’re in there.”

 

He should go and open the door, he knows that. He’s being silly and childish for ignoring Yuri, he knows that too. He should just open the door and then they can talk this through like rational, sensible adults.

 

“Please, Beka. Open the door.”

 

Just because he knows what he should do, though, doesn’t mean he can actually bring himself to do it. Otabek’s self-loathing is fully in control at this point; has beaten rational thought and logical reasoning into submission and squirreled them away in the deepest, darkest recesses of his brain.

 

“I get that you’re upset, or cross, or... or _something_ , but please, don’t shut me out like this.”

 

The tightness around Otabek’s heart clenches at Yuri’s plaintive tone, and he opens his mouth to say something - _anything_ \- that might make Yuri sound slightly less heartbroken. But the words stay lodged in his throat, and he feels like he might suffocate under the weight of his inadequacy.

 

He wants so badly to reassure Yuri that this is only temporary, a funk that he’ll snap out of soon, but every time he tries to think about what happened he gets stuck on the same problem, and it’s a problem that doesn’t feel temporary at all.

 

If Yuri isn’t going to change, and Otabek can no longer trust himself to look after him, then where does that leave them? More importantly, where does it leave the dynamic that has come to be such an important part of their relationship?

 

He doesn’t have an answer for that, not yet. So he sits in silence and waits until Yuri tires himself out and leaves, hating himself a little bit more with every passing minute.

 

He doesn’t sleep well that night, tossing and turning until the sky turns a dusty pink. When he hears birds start to screech outside his window he finally admits defeat.

 

There are thirteen missed call notifications on his phone, and a stream of text messages from Yuri that go from apologetic to angry and back again so fast it makes Otabek’s head spin. His finger hovers over the call button for a long moment, his self-control wavering, before he locks the screen resolutely heads for the shower.

 

He’s not going to ignore Yuri forever, he tells himself as he cranks the water up to scalding and steps under the spray, trying to burn away the invisible taint seems to be coating his skin. He just needs to get his thoughts in order, and then they can talk. He can’t come to Yuri with all his concerns and none of the answers. After everything he’s done, he at least owes it to Yuri to come up with a plan, a way to fix the things he so carelessly broke between them. It’s only fair.

 

He arrives at the rink before the sun has fully risen for the second day in a row.

 

He feels like a zombie on the ice, his movements sluggish and heavy as the sleep deprivation piles up on top of the emotional exhaustion of the past few days, leaving him feeling like he’s wading through tar.

 

It seems he’s not the only one.

 

Practice has officially been running for about an hour - Otabek coming up to the end of hour three on the ice - when a deafening crack reverberates around the rink. Otabek’s head whips towards the source of the noise, along with every other skater at practice. That sort of noise can only come from one thing; a skater hitting the ice, and hitting it hard.

 

His heart stutters in his chest and his whole body jerks when his gaze lands on Yuri picking himself up off the ice, looking a little bruised and a lot shaken. He almost starts skating over to him, his feet have already started to move before he remembers that he doesn’t belong at Yuri’s side right now. It takes every ounce of self-restraint he has, but he forces himself to stay where he is, and watch from a distance as Yuri dusts himself off with shaking hands.

 

Yakov is at Yuri’s side faster than a man of his age has any right to be, his expression serious as he checks Yuri over for injuries. They’re too far away for Otabek to be able to hear what they’re saying, but he can see the way Yuri snaps at his coach, lashing out in hurt and embarrassment. Yakov’s expression darkens, moving from concerned to annoyed, and he pinches the bridge of his nose while muttering what looks suspiciously like a stream of curse words. Then his head whips up and around, searching the ice.

 

“Altin,” Yakov’s voice carries easily through the silent air, everybody still too busy watching Yuri to start up their own skating again. Otabek blanches as Yakov’s furious expression lands on him. “Here. Now.”

 

Otabek’s legs are moving before he even thinks about what he’s doing, taking him across the ice to where Yakov and Yuri are standing. He supposes it’s a good thing that he’s never had much of a self-preservation instinct, because Yakov’s eyes are promising murder and Yuri is refusing to acknowledge his approach even when he stops a foot in front of the pair.

 

“Sir?” he says, hoping that politeness might stem the wave of vitriol he’s no doubt about to have rained on him.

 

“Don’t you _sir_ me,” Yakov practically spits, splitting his glare equally between Otabek and Yuri, who is scowling at the floor, resolutely not making eye contact with either of them. “I wasn’t born yesterday, I know what’s going on here.”

 

_No, you really don’t_ , Otabek can’t help thinking, but wisely keeps that to himself.

 

“Did you know that I have a bottle of vodka in my office that has been sitting there for almost twenty years? I treated myself to it when I got my first coaching job, and promised myself I would save it for a very, _very_ special occasion.”

 

It’s a fight to keep his expression neutral as Yakov starts to talk. Of all the things Otabek had been expecting his coach to say to him, a story about vodka was not one of them.

 

“When Vitya came to tell me he was retiring, I opened that bottle of vodka. Twenty years, and that was the occasion I chose.” Yakov is now waving his hands animatedly at the two younger skaters, and Otabek has a slightly hysterical moment where he wonders if all the years of high pressure international competition has finally caught up with the man.

 

“Do you know why I drank the vodka, Altin? Do you?” Yakov pauses, raising a bushy eyebrow, and Otabek belatedly realizes he’s actually expected to reply. He opens his mouth, but Yakov apparently decides he’s waited long enough, and carries on regardless. 

 

“It’s not because I was pleased he was retiring, oh no. Even in his twilight years Vitya was still one of my best skaters. I should have wanted him to continue skating, continue winning for Russia.” There’s a good chance Yakov is simply talking to himself at this point, but there’s no chance that Otabek’s going anywhere until he’s been explicitly dismissed. Despite everything, he can’t help shooting a questioning look at Yuri, who is looking equally confused by their coach’s outburst.

 

“But you see, children, I decided that moment was the moment for my very special vodka, because that was the moment I thought I was done with _romantic bullshit clogging up my ice_.”

 

Ah.

 

Otabek feels blood rush to his cheeks as the full weight of what Yakov is implying hits home. He opens his mouth to protest, but Yakov’s glare has him swiftly closing it. “Don’t insult me by trying to claim that this isn’t what’s going on here. I have dealt with years, _years_ of histrionics from skaters who think they are the first person to ever live through heartbreak. I thought I was finally done, that I could have just a few years of coaching in peace. No more Victor, no more Georgi. It was going to be so quiet.” His voice has taken on a mournful, almost wistful tone, but it sharpens again as he jabs a finger into Otabek’s chest. “And then _you_ came along.”

 

“It’s not his fault, Yakov.” Both Otabek and Yakov turn incredulously towards Yuri as the younger boy interrupts. Otabek doesn’t know what is more shocking, the fact that Yuri is telling Yakov he’s wrong - which is tantamount to career suicide at this point - or that he’s actually trying to defend Otabek.

 

As if anything Otabek has done in the past two days could in any way be considered defensible.

 

Yakov looks about ready to spontaneously combust. “I don’t care whose fault it is. I care that my two of my best skaters are tottering around the ice like they’re barely out of juniors. I don’t know what happened between you two, and frankly I don’t care. _Sort it out or get off my ice_.”

 

With that Yakov spins on his toe pick and stomps over to the other end of the rink yelling for Mila to show him her triple Salchow. Otabek winces in sympathy; Mila is not going to have a fun morning.

 

“Otabek?”

 

Otabek rips his gaze away from Mila and Yakov, eyes wide as he turns back and realizes that he and Yuri are together, alone, for the first time since...well, since everything happened.

 

Yuri looks so small, so fragile. There are dark bags under his eyes that suggest he’s been getting as little sleep as Otabek, and he’s holding his leg slightly stiff like it’s hurting more than he’s willing to let on. “Beka please, can we talk?” he practically begs, fists clenched by his side like he’s only just stopping himself from reaching out for Otabek.

 

Otabek gazes back at Yuri, and for a moment time seems to stand still. For a heartbeat that feels like it stretches on for eternity it’s just him and Yuri, and nothing else matters. His fingers twitch impotently by his thighs, desperate to close the gap between them. He wants nothing more than to take Yuri in his arms and tell him that everything is okay, that everything is going to be okay.

 

Then Yakov’s shouts cut through the air, and Otabek is brought back to reality with a harsh thump. Everything that he’s been feeling in the past few days, all the guilt, all the pain, rushes back into him, so overwhelming it feels like he can’t breathe. Nothing is okay, and it’s all his fault.

 

He stares wild-eyed at Yuri for another heartbeat, then flees. Like the coward he so clearly is.

 

Another sleepless night, and Otabek feels like he’s barely functioning as a human being, let alone a world class athlete when he reaches the rink the next day.

 

He risks another verbal smackdown from Yakov and continues to avoid Yuri at practice, resolutely ignoring the hurt expression on his boyfriend’s face every time he abruptly changes course when it looks like their paths are about to intersect. It’s exhausting, emotionally draining as well as physically to be so hyper aware of another skater all the time. By the time Yakov calls time on the practice - shooting Otabek the dirtiest of looks in the process - he’s about ready to drop.

 

He’s so focused on avoiding his Yuri that he doesn’t notice the other Yuuri cornering him in hallway just outside the locker rooms until it’s too late.

 

“Hey Otabek,” Yuuri says in English, which is the first indication that this isn’t just going to be idle chit-chat. Yuuri’s Russian has definitely improved thanks to his time living in St. Petersburg, but it’s still not as good as his English. The fact that he’s switching back to the language he’s less likely to trip over makes it obvious that this is going to be a serious conversation.

 

Otabek nods silently in acknowledgement, wondering if there’s any way he can get out of this. Judging by the determined set of Yuuri’s jaw, he thinks probably not.

 

“Look, whatever Yurio’s done, I’m sure he’s sorry,” Yuuri says, obviously deciding not to bother with pleasantries in favor of getting straight down to business. Otabek can appreciate that, he supposes.

 

“What makes you think Yuri’s done something?” Otabek replies as he readjusts his kit bag and folds his arms across his chest.

 

“You mean aside from the fact that we all heard Yakov rip you a new one?” Yuuri says with a wry smile. “He’s been making sad eyes at you across the ice for days. Even Victor has noticed that something’s up, and you know how unobservant he can be.”

 

“No,” Otabek clarifies, “I mean why do you assume that it’s Yuri who’s at fault?”

 

Yuuri shrugs, a small smile still on his lips like he thinks Otabek is making some sort of joke. “Well...it’s Yurio.”

 

Otabek can’t help it, he knows that it’s not Yuuri’s fault, that he’s just trying to ease the tension around what is obviously going to be an incredibly awkward conversation, but the idea that the rest of the team have seen that the two of them have been arguing and immediately assume it’s Yuri’s fault? The guilt in Otabek’s chest flares hot and painful and he practically growls as he takes a step towards Yuuri.

 

“Yuri is the best thing to ever happen to me,” he says adamantly. “He’s strong, and he’s caring, and I don’t deserve him even on my best days.” He pauses, taking a second to get his emotions in check before continuing in a much quieter voice. “I sure as hell don’t deserve him now, not...not after what I did.”

 

Yuuri holds his hands up placatingly, expression now completely serious. “I’m sorry Otabek, I didn’t mean to presume…”

 

Otabek waves a hand at Yuuri to cut him off, shoulders slumping as he scrubs at his face. “It’s okay, you didn’t know.”

 

He feels a warm hand on his shoulder, and looks up to see that Yuuri has taken a step forward. “Whatever it is, Yurio still loves you. That much is obvious. You need to talk to him, work this out together.”

 

“I hurt him”, Otabek admits, hating how small his voice sounds. “I hurt him and I hate myself for it.”

 

There’s a long silence after that. Yuuri’s expression is considering, like he’s trying to decide what to say, but all Otabek can focus on is the pounding of his own heart inside his ears. He drops his gaze to the floor, unable to maintain eye contact with the older skater when his gaze is so...searching. No matter what Yuuri says, he knows he fucked up. He fucked up and he’s not sure if there’s any way back from that.

 

“How many times do you think I’ve made Victor cry?” Yuuri’s tone is carefully neutral, and Otabek can’t help meeting his gaze again.

 

He frowns, “Is that supposed to be a trick question?” Yuuri and Victor are one of the most ridiculously perfect couples he’s ever met. Disgustingly perfect, as Yuri would say.

 

“Seven,” Yuuri replies, his expression sad even as his mouth quirks up into a small smile at Otabek’s response. “I’ve made the love of my life cry seven times, and I regret every single time.”

 

Otabek’s frown deepens, head cocking to the side as he tries to keep up. He’s not quite sure why Yuuri is telling him this. Yuuri simply continues, almost as if he’s talking to himself. “Victor’s number is nine, in case you were wondering, but I don’t hold that against him. The last time we fought - oh it was awful - the last time we fought Victor spent the night on Georgi’s couch and I cried myself to sleep.”

 

“I don’t…” Otabek begins, feeling thoroughly uncomfortable. It’s almost like hearing about his parents arguing.

 

Yuuri gives him another sad smile and squeezes his shoulder again comfortingly. “The point I’m trying to make is that relationships are never perfect. Sometimes we hurt the people we love most in this world, even when we don’t mean to. Especially when we don’t mean to. The important part is what we do afterwards, how we work past it and move on.”

 

Otabek opens his mouth to explain, to tell Yuuri that it’s not that simple, but Yuuri waves his hand to stop him. “I don’t need to know what happened between the two of you, honestly it doesn’t matter. Yurio loves you Otabek, more than anything. The whole world can see how much he loves you just by looking at the way he is around you. Whatever it is that happened, don’t you at least owe it to him to hear him out?”

 

“Even if Yuri forgives me, I don’t know if I can forgive myself.” Otabek admits, eyes flicking away from Yuuri’s face and back again.

 

Yuuri mutters something that sounds suspiciously like a Japanese swear word. “Honestly, is martyrdom is a required trait for ice skaters or something?” he says with a sigh. “And yes, before you ask I’m including myself in that as well, as much as I hate to admit it.” He fixes Otabek with a suddenly serious state. “You trust Yurio, right?”

 

Otabek nods adamantly, “More than anyone.”

 

“Then trust him to know his own mind. If he forgives you and wants to move on, what right do you have to fall on your own sword over this?”

 

It makes sense when Yuuri puts it like that, Otabek supposes. If only it were that simple. No matter what Yuuri says, Yuri trusted Otabek to look after him, to know what his limits were even if he didn’t know them himself, and Otabek failed him. He still doesn’t know if there’s any coming back from that.

 

Either way though, he’s been avoiding his boyfriend for too long. If nothing else, any more sleepless nights and it’s going to start getting dangerous for him to get on the ice.

 

“I’ll try,” he grudgingly accepts.

 

Yuuri nods, stepping away from Otabek and putting a bit of space between them again. “That’s all I’m asking for.” He nods towards the exit, and Otabek takes the hint and falls into step next to the other skater as they both head outside.

 

Otabek pauses when Yuuri heads over to Victor’s car - noticeably without Victor already waiting by it despite practice having finished a while ago now. “Why do I get the feeling that Victor is currently giving Yuri a very similar talk to the one we just had?” he asks suspiciously. 

 

Yuuri’s evil grin is more than acknowledgement enough.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another slightly early chapter - finally some communication between these two idiots!

Otabek heads straight to Yuri’s apartment after his conversation with Yuuri, not trusting himself not to lose his nerve if he goes home first. It still takes him a good minute to work up the courage to knock on the door when he reaches it though; he knows that he deserves whatever is about to happen, but he’s almost sick with worry regardless.

 

The door swings open before Otabek has even finished knocking, and he has to pull his hand back to avoid rapping on Yuri’s head. Yuri’s face is flushed pink, and his eyes widen as if he can’t quite believe that Otabek is actually at his door. Otabek can’t quite believe it either, if he’s being perfectly honest.

 

He watches as Yuri quickly catches and corrects his expression, schooling his face into something more neutral and crossing his arms across his chest defensively. He raises an eyebrow challengingly, obviously determined not to be the one to speak first.

 

Otabek opens his mouth, but no words come out. All of a sudden, after so long apart, Yuri is actually in front of him, practically within touching distance. Every rational thought deserts Otabek in the face of his beautiful, ferocious, furious boyfriend.

 

“Can...can we talk?” he eventually stutters out, scratching awkwardly behind his ear. Yuri’s eyes flick from Otabek’s face to his hand, and his scowl deepens.

 

“Oh, _now_ he wants to talk,” Yuri mutters more to himself than Otabek. For a single, terrifying moment Otabek is convinced Yuri is going to slam the door in his face, but eventually the younger boy huffs and stands aside to let Otabek enter.

 

Otabek hurries into the apartment before Yuri has a chance to change his mind. “Thank you,” he says quietly on the way past.

 

“Grandpa is back at nine,” Yuri simply replies, his voice tinged with something that sounds suspiciously like a warning. Otabek sneaks a look down at his watch; just past seven. Will two hours be enough to piece together the shattered pieces of their relationship?

  
Otabek honestly has no idea.

 

He turns to face Yuri, who has closed the door and is still watching him with that guarded expression. The silence seems to stretch on for eternity, both of them simply staring at one another. Eventually, when Otabek thinks he might actually suffocate under the weight of the silence, he blurts out, “I’m sorry, Yuri.”

 

“What do you want, Otabek?” Yuri says at the exact same time.

 

Otabek slams his mouth shut, furious at himself for having talked over Yuri at the very first opportunity.

 

Yuri clearly misreads his expression, as his scowl deepens and his arms wrap even tighter around his body. “Oh, were you expecting me to apologize too? Well tough shit, I ran out of apologies about two days ago when you ignored every one of my texts.”

 

Otabek holds his hands up, trying desperately to diffuse the tension that’s swept in and is surrounding them. “No, no of course not. You have nothing to apologize for.”

 

“You’re damn right I don’t,” Yuri hisses. His whole body is practically shivering with tension, his shoulder jerking like he can’t decide whether he wants to throw himself at Otabek or run away.

 

“Yuri, please,” Otabek begs, “Just let me try to explain.”

 

“Explain what,” Yuri hits back, “How you’ve been ignoring me for the past three days? How you’ve refused to even look at me despite the fact that we train on the same ice? I had Victor-Fucking-Nikiforov come up and tell me that whatever it was that I had done, I should talk to you about it and all I could do was laugh because I’ve been fucking trying and you completely _shut me out!_ ”

 

Otabek can only stare in horror as Yuri works himself up into more and more of a state, his voice rising in pitch until he’s practically shouting in Otabek’s face. He feels terrible; his insides churning like they’re trying to tie themselves in knots. This is completely his fault; he knew that by avoiding Yuri he’d be putting his boyfriend through the emotional wringer, and yet he’d done it anyway. He knows he has absolutely no right to ask Yuri to try and see his point of view, but somehow he finds himself doing it anyway. Add it to the list of dumb mistakes he’s made in the past seventy-two hours, he supposes.

 

“I hurt you,” Otabek says, his voice sounding so small and pathetic in the wake of Yuri’s righteous fury. “Skating is your life and I nearly-”

 

“ _You_ are my life, you fucking jackass!”

 

Yuri’s shouted declaration cuts through the air like a knife, and Otabek’s mouth slams shut in surprise. For a moment the two boys just stare at one another, Yuri’s expression caught somewhere between mortified and furious, Otabek’s simply confused. He knows what he heard Yuri say, but he doesn’t understand it.

 

Yuri huffs, shoulders sagging like all the tension has fled his body in the wake of his confession. He turns away from Otabek and shuffles to the sofa, curling up in the corner. When he looks back up at Otabek he suddenly looks so fragile, so much younger than his eighteen years.

 

“Do you remember what Victor was like, the season before he ran off to Japan?” he asks. The question is so unexpected that for a moment Otabek forgets that they’re arguing. He takes a few steps towards Yuri, eyes flicking towards the side of the sofa where the younger boy appears to have intentionally left for him. When Yuri doesn’t say anything he sits down, making sure to keep a few inches of space between them.

 

“I think the whole skating community remembers that season; he was flawless,” Otabek admits, wondering where Yuri is going with this.

 

“Technically flawless, sure. But that was the season that almost destroyed him. You could see it every time he took to the ice, it was like he was dead behind the eyes.” Yuri rearranges himself on the sofa so that he’s more comfortable, staring into the distance like he’s reliving that season in his mind. “He sold his soul to the ice for too many years, and the ice nearly consumed him.” His eyes flick back to meet Otabek’s, and there’s something haunted behind them.

 

“I wanted that too, for the longest time,” he admits. “It didn’t seem so bad to me, selling my soul in order to be the best. If that was what it took, then that’s what I was going to do. It’s what I _did_ do, for a while. Until you came along and changed everything.”

 

Otabek’s heart hurts at Yuri’s frank tone, at the casual way he describes sacrificing everything for the chance at gold. He wants to reach out, to gather Yuri in his arms and protect him from the world. But he forces himself to stay firmly rooted in position, barely even breathing. Yuri’s story isn’t over yet.

 

“You came along,” Yuri continues, “And you were so...alive. You were amazing on the ice, but it didn’t possess you the way it does so many skaters. You still had your friends, and your DJing, and that ridiculous fucking bike of yours. You were a whole person, not just a hollow body wearing figure skates. And for some strange reason, you actually wanted to be my friend.” Yuri’s voice cracks as he huffs out a self-deprecating bark of laughter, and Otabek feels a whimper catch in his throat. Is that really how Yuri sees himself?

 

“You showed me what it was like to treat skating as a passion, but not as my entire reason for being. You opened my eyes to this whole other side of...of _me_.” Yuri’s voice starts to sound thick, like he’s holding back tears. “You took me on coffee dates, and midnight screenings of Star Wars, and introduced me to my inner submissive. You showed me what it was like to be comfortable in my own skin and…and then you fucking walked away!”

 

The fire is back behind Yuri’s eyes, returned with a vengeance after such an unprecedented show of vulnerability. He glares at Otabek, jabbing him roughly in the chest with his index finger.

 

“You are my life, Otabek Altin, and you left me! I woke up after the worst scene we’ve ever done together to an empty bed. No note, no nothing. Do you have any idea how that felt?” It’s phrased as a question but Yuri doesn’t give Otabek a chance to reply before he barrels on, his anger fully in control again. “I had no idea where you were, or what you were feeling. You abandoned me Beka, right when I needed you the most.”

 

“I know, and I’m so, so sorry Yura,” Otabek says, his voice cracking with his desire to convince Yuri just how sorry he is. “But you have to understand, I almost did you permanent damage. I almost hurt you in a way you wouldn’t have been able to handle.”

 

“We are not in a scene right now!” Yuri yells, completely steam-rollering over Otabek’s attempts to keep the conversation as a normal decibel level. “You are not my dominant right now, you do not get to decide what I can and can’t handle.”

 

“I know, I know. Please, Yuri,” Otabek is honestly surprised it’s taken him this long to resort to begging. He gets up from the sofa and starts to pace around the small living room, running his hands through his hair as he desperately tries to find the right words. “I know I fucked up by not talking to you for so long. It was cowardly of me, but I needed some time. A permanent injury like that would have completely destroyed your career. It would have completely destroyed _you_. I could barely look in a mirror without being disgusted with myself, I couldn’t bear the idea of seeing that disgust on your face as well.”

 

“Do you _hear_ how selfish you sound right now?” Yuri asks incredulously, and Otabek cringes because he does, he really does.

 

“I know,” he says. There’s no defending his actions any more. There never was, really.

 

“Do you even know anything about dislocated shoulders?” Yuri asks, his voice bordering on hysterical. “Once it’s happened to you the first time, it’s basically a million times more likely to happen again. Your muscles are weakened, or some shit like that. It’s not like I dislocated my shoulder at eleven and that was the end of it.” Yuri gives a short, derisive laugh, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Christ, Beka, I’m a professional athlete in a high impact sport, I’ve dislocated my shoulder at least half a dozen times since then. It isn’t the career-ending injury you seem to think it is. A few days of icing it and I’m good as new.”

 

Otabek looks dubiously at Yuri, processing that information. He hadn’t known that, actually. He’s hit with another wave of shame as he realizes that in all of this, not once did he think to actually do some research. “That...isn’t exactly the point,” he finally says weakly.

 

“You’re damn right, it’s not the point,” Yuri practically growls. “The point is that you promised me you’d be there for me, that you’d look after my mind as well as my body. And then at the first hurdle, the first time you come across something that is even a teensy bit difficult, you bail.”

 

Otabek’s heart plummets as he realizes what Yuri is implying. He’d always known that this might be the outcome of this conversation, but he’d hoped against hope that somehow they might be able to resolve things. “I know...I know I don’t deserve to be your dominant any more,” Otabek says, voice small as he feels his world crumble around him.

 

“Oh for the love of...you really are oblivious sometimes aren’t you,” Yuri snaps, standing up angrily and crossing the room so that they’re face to face again. “I’m not saying I don’t want this any more. I’m saying I _do._ I’m saying that it’s cruel, Beka, for you to give me a taste of what this dynamic can be like, and then just...take it away.”

 

“But...you just said...” Otabek protests, brain struggling to keep up with such a rollercoaster of a conversation.

 

“What was it you said to me, the first time I really fucked up?” Yuri says, eyes glinting dangerously. “You don’t get rid of me that easily, I’m afraid.”

 

It’s like Yuri’s words are the key to unlocking some dam of emotions that Otabek has bottled up inside his heart. He lets out a pained sob, feeling tears spring to his eyes as he clasps his hand in front of his mouth, as if he might just be able to hold it together if he doesn’t let any more noise escape him. It’s a wasted effort, though, as his legs have already started to buckle, and he finds himself sinking to the floor, unable to support his own body weight as the stress and tension of the past few days threatens to overwhelm him.

 

_You don’t get rid of me that easily._ The words echo around his brain, throwing him back to a different time, in a different room, when he had promised the same breathtaking Yura that he was in this for the long haul. Those few words were what had started them on this incredible path they’ve been exploring together. It feels like a lifetime ago now.

 

He hears a thump in front of him, and he opens his eyes to see Yuri kneeling in front of him, dipping his head slightly to meet Otabek’s gaze. His eyes hold a silent question that Otabek can’t decipher, but whatever Yuri is looking for he must get what he needs from Otabek’s expression. He reaches out with one hand to start rubbing comforting strokes down Otabek’s arm, from shoulder to elbow and back again.

 

Otabek shudders into the touch, he can’t help it. He can’t tear his gaze away from Yuri either, the sight of him as he is now - strong, fearless and completely confident in his own skin - superimposes itself over the image in his brain of how Yuri was the last time those words had been spoken.

 

_You don’t get rid of me that easily._ The two Yuri’s, the old and the new, flicker in and out of focus in Otabek’s mind. He’s watched his boyfriend grow from an angry teenager, the fire inside of him raging wild and fierce, almost too much his small body to contain, into the man in front of him now. Still filled with so much passion, but learning to control the fire inside of him, learning to temper it and shape it to his will. He doesn’t know what Yuri sees when he looks at him, but he imagines the differences between him then and now are equally stark.

 

They’ve both grown so much in the past year, evolved better and stronger simply from having the other at their side, having somebody else fighting in their corner. Otabek has the pawprints on his hip to prove it.

 

To think that he’d been willing to throw this all away over one bad scene. He’s been a fool. A stupid, short-sighted fool.

 

His back bows, and he slumps forward, exhausted. Yuri wordlessly shuffles forward to wrap his arms around Otabek’s neck, and Otabek lets his head pillow on Yuri’s shoulder. Otabek feels completely drained; he’s reasonably sure Yuri’s arms are the only thing keeping him upright. His brain doesn’t seem to remember how to form words, he’s got nothing left to give. It’s okay though, because Yuri doesn’t seem to feel like talking either. Apparently just being close is enough for both of them right now, after what feels like an eternity apart.

 

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, wrapped up in the closeness of one another, but eventually Otabek’s knees start to protest their position on the floor. Yuri silently migrates them back onto the sofa, and Otabek immediately pillows his head in Yuri’s lap. He wraps his arms tightly around Yuri’s waist; a small, irrational part of him still afraid that Yuri might change his mind and walk away from him - walk away from  _ them _ \- after all. Yuri, to his credit, doesn’t comment on his uncharacteristic clinginess, and after a moment’s hesitation Otabek feels fingers start to lightly stroke through the short hair of his undercut. It’s a soft, tentative gesture, but it’s there, and Otabek doesn’t think he’s ever been more grateful to feel Yuri’s touch.

 

They’re still in the same position when they hear the chime of the grandfather clock down the hallway. Otabek tenses in surprise and disappointment. No matter how much he might want to, they can’t stay like this forever. Life - and Yuri’s grandpa - is sure to intervene soon.

 

He feels Yuri tense as well, the reluctance evident in every inch of the younger boy’s body as he slowly rearranges them so that he can dig in his back pocket to retrieve his phone. He wakes up the screen and scowls. “Damn, it’s nine already.”

 

Otabek’s heart plummets. That’s his cue to leave. It’s not like Otabek hasn’t met Grandpa Plisetsky before, of course. They’ve hand dinner a number of times - always with Otabek on his best behaviour and Yuri insisting that it doesn’t matter - and he knows that the older man has come to accept, however grudgingly, Otabek as a permanent fixture in his grandson’s life.

 

That doesn’t mean, however, that either of them are willing to risk the fallout of Yuri’s grandpa coming home to find his grandson in tears, clearly in the midst of an argument with his idiot boyfriend. Grandpa Plisetsky can be really scary when he wants to be.

 

It feels like an inhuman task for Otabek to draw away from Yuri, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand as he straightens.

 

“I could come over to yours?” Yuri suggests, the indecision clear in his voice.

 

Otabek sighs as he stands up. Part of him, a very large part of him, wants to take Yuri up on his offer. After the tumultuous evening they’ve had, he wants nothing more than to fall asleep with Yuri curled up in the bed next to him. But things are still too raw between them, there’s still so much they need to discuss. He thinks that Yuri might know that as well, judging by the hesitance in his voice.

 

“I think we... I think I need some time to process. This evening has been...intense,” Otabek admits ruefully. He knows he’s going to regret this decision as soon as he gets back to his cold, empty apartment.

 

“You’re telling me,” Yuri grumbles, but doesn’t argue. “You know you’re lucky I love you,” he quips, before looking suddenly unsure. “You still...I mean...you do as well...right?”

 

“Always,” Otabek replies vehemently, taking a possessive step towards Yuri as he speaks. “With every fiber of my being.” He reaches out hesitantly to stroke along Yuri’s jaw, letting out a small sigh of relief when Yuri whimpers and leans into the touch. He’s honestly not sure what he would have done if Yuri had rejected the contact. “I have been...the biggest idiot, and I’m so sorry for putting you through this Yura. But i’ve got my head out of my ass now, I swear. I want this, and I want you, more than I’ve wanted anything in my life.”

 

“Even gold at the Grand Prix Final?” Yuri teases gently, his expression still painfully soft.

 

“Even gold at the Grand Prix Final,” Otabek agrees firmly.

 

The grandfather clock continues to chime the hour, an insistent countdown tracking their last few moments together. Yuri shoots a filthy glare down the hallway, and the expression is so perfectly _Yuri_ that Otabek feels his heart skip a beat or two.

 

Yuri huffs and takes a pointed step backwards. “You should probably go,” he admits. “But we’ll talk tomorrow?”

 

Otabek knows that Yuri intended that last comment to be a statement of fact, but the implicit question hangs heavy in the air anyway.

 

“Yes, we’ll talk,” Otabek says, “Come over to mine after practice, I’ll make us dinner.”

 

“You’ll get us takeout, is what you’ll do,” Yuri corrects, poking him weakly in the chest. “And no more ignoring me on the ice, got it?”

 

“Never again,” Otabek promises, guilt twisting inside him once more as he hears how unsure, how vulnerable Yuri suddenly sounds. He really has done a number on his boyfriend these past few days; it’s going to take a lot to rebuild that trust back up again.

 

He lets Yuri walk him to the door, and they pause facing each other on the threshold. Otabek watches as Yuri shifts his weight from one foot to the other, clearly debating something before darting forward to place a soft kiss on Otabek’s cheek.

 

“Until tomorrow,” he says, eyes shining.

 

“Until tomorrow,” Otabek breathlessly agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT (08/10/2017): Minor rewrite of one paragraph since I re-read this chapter and it stuck out like a sore thumb! It doesn't actually change anything plot-wise, but points to anybody who spots it!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay posting this chapter, it required a fair bit more re-writing than I expected! Huge huge thank you to Lilinas for her help with this chapter, it really needed it!
> 
> Eagle-eyed readers might have noticed the total chapter count has gone up by 1, this chapter got way too long so I split it in two. The next chapter will be posted beginning of next week most likely, and then the final chapter on Thursday as normal.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Otabek has never quite understood what Yuri has against his cooking, but given everything that’s happened recently he’s not about to argue with Yuri’s request for takeout. He orders pizza from a local shop as soon as he gets back from practice the next day, and when they estimate forty-five minutes for delivery he figures he has enough time to jump in the shower before it arrives.

 

He’s just turned off the water when he hears a knock at the front door. Cursing his bad timing - he didn’t think he’d spent that long in the shower, but time does tend to get away with him after a long day on the ice - he hurriedly throws on a pair of sweatpants and loops his towel around his shoulders to catch the drips from his hair as he goes to open the door.

 

He had been expecting a delivery person on the doorstep. What he actually gets is a scowling Yuri.

 

“You left me at the rink,” Yuri complains by way of greeting, walking into Otabek’s apartment without being invited and slumping down on the sofa. Otabek can only look on in stunned silence as Yuri makes himself at home like he has so many times before, painfully aware of his partially dressed state.

 

“Um...sorry,” Otabek says, using the towel around his shoulder to start drying his hair. “I thought you might want some time to yourself before coming over.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,  _ time to process _ . I heard you the first hundred times,” Yuri grouses, crossing his arms and glaring up at Otabek. Otabek knows that Yuri is just lashing out because he’s nervous and uncomfortable; he’s spent enough time around him to be able to know when he means what he says and when he’s just looking for an outlet, and now is very much the latter. It doesn’t make the sting any less though, especially given the fragility of their current relationship.

 

He’s saved from any more lashings from Yuri’s caustic tongue, however, when Yuri’s eyes suddenly widen, expression switching from pissed to shocked as he finally takes in Otabek’s state of undress.

 

Otabek flushes red as Yuri’s gaze roves hungrily over his partially-clothed body. He knows the picture he must look right now, still damp from the shower and sweatpants low on his hips, tattoo just peeking out over the top of the waistband. In any other circumstance he would almost certainly be preening under the attention, probably teasing Yuri for practically drooling.

 

Now though, with so much still unsaid between them, Otabek just feels uncomfortable. He has no idea where they stand any more, and his nakedness feels so much more than simply physical.

 

He shifts his weight awkwardly, making an aborted gesture towards his bedroom. “I’m gonna...I’ll just get changed okay?” He watches as Yuri unconsciously licks his lips, clearly still more than a little distracted by the sight of his half-naked boyfriend. Otabek huffs and snaps his fingers at Yuri. “Yura, concentrate.” 

 

He doesn’t mean for it to come out so authoritative, and he winces inwardly as he hears the dominance seeping out in his tone. They still have so much to discuss surrounding that side of their relationship; there are parts they’ll almost certainly need to renegotiate. He knows he needs to keep himself in check until they’ve done that, the fact that it’s practically instinct at this point for him to bring Yuri back in line when he’s being so  _ obvious  _ is no excuse. He opens his mouth to apologize but the words die in his throat as Yuri looks up at him, stunned and a little hopeful. 

 

Maybe Yuri needs a sign that they’ll be able to work things out, get back to where they were before, just as much as Otabek does.

 

Yuri shakes his head roughly, clearing his throat as he does so. “Yeah, okay. Be quick though?” Otabek knows that Yuri meant for it to come out far more dismissive and a lot less pleading than it does, but he chooses not to comment on it. 

 

“I ordered pizza, it should be here soon,” he says instead as he heads towards his bedroom to change. As if on cue another knock sounds at the door, and Otabek curses his bad timing  _ again  _ as he watches Yuri spring eagerly off the sofa.

 

“I’m going to eat it all without you,” Yuri calls back threateningly as Otabek closes the bedroom door behind him.

 

* * *

 

Otabek emerges fifteen minutes later to find that Yuri has been very nearly true to his word and eaten everything apart from two slices of the large pizza Otabek has ordered for them. In fact, Otabek think suspiciously as he sits down opposite Yuri and pulls the pizza box closer, those two slices are looking awfully light on toppings. He raises an eyebrow at Yuri, who crosses his arms and raises his own challengingly. It’s obvious he’s trying to get a rise out of Otabek, so Otabek simply rolls his eyes and picks up a slice to eat. 

 

He can practically see the steam coming out of Yuri’s ears at his lack of response.

 

He takes his time eating, trying to make sure his thoughts are in order. He needs to make sure he gets this conversation right, for both of their sakes. He can hear Yuri fidgeting on the other side of the table, but it appears that he’s waiting for Otabek to make the first move. 

 

Otabek didn’t think it was possible for things to ever be this awkward between the two of them. He hates it, hates that he’s let it get this bad. He desperately hopes that they’re not past the point of no return.

 

Once he’s finished off the second slice he pushes the box away from him and makes himself face Yuri. The younger boy’s face is twisted into an unhappy frown, his arms still crossed defensively across his chest. If he had hackles they would almost certainly be raised. Otabek takes a deep breath, steeling himself. “So…” he prompts, trailing off as Yuri’s eyes flick towards him and then instantly back to the table.

 

“So,” Yuri repeats, but doesn’t say anything else.

 

“We need to talk...about what happened,” Otabek says, hating how unsure he sounds.

 

“Didn’t we talk about it enough yesterday?” Yuri grumbles, eyes still fixed firmly on the surface in front of him.

 

“I know I hurt you with how I’ve been acting these past few days, and you have to know I am so, so sorry for...for everything. For how I reacted, for what I’ve put you through. You didn’t deserve the way I treated you, and I’m gonna make it up to you, I swear.” Otabek can feel his voice cracking as he apologizes again. Their confrontation yesterday has gone a long way towards assuaging his guilt over the scene itself, but has ratcheted up his anguish over his actions after the fact. It’s going to be a long time before he forgives himself for his childish behaviour, he thinks.

 

Yuri huffs again, but there’s something unexpectedly soft in his eyes as he looks up at Otabek again. “Apology accepted, you know that.”

 

Otabek looses the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He was reasonably sure that after Yuri’s declaration yesterday the other boy hasn’t been holding any grudges, but it’s still an unexpected relief to hear his forgiveness out loud.

 

“But…” Otabek begins, hating himself a little for pushing the subject, but knowing that it needs to be done, “we still need to talk about how we got into this situation in the first place.”

 

Yuri simply stares at Otabek for a long moment, expression unreadable. Then he abruptly stands up and heads towards the door. For a moment Otabek thinks that Yuri might just be giving up and leaving, and his heart stutters in his chest despite knowing that rationally that’s almost certainly not what’s happening.

 

Indeed, Yuri stops when he reaches the door and bends down to grab something out of the rucksack he’d brought with him. He returns to the table with a thick cardboard folder, dropping it down on the table in front of Otabek with a thump.

 

“My medical records, going back to the ISU assessment before my first competition,” he explains as he returns to his seat on the other side of the table.

 

“Yuri…” Otabek begins, at a loss for words as he lightly traces a finger along the tab on the side of the folder. 

 

“If you know my history, you’ll know what might hurt me in the future. This will help,” Yuri says firmly, nodding his head once to support his point.

 

“I don’t...I mean…this will help, of course. It means a lot that you’re comfortable sharing this with me.” It’s true, Otabek thinks as he flicks quickly through the folder - it’s thick, thicker than it should be even for a professional skater. Otabek wonders just how hard Yuri has been pushing his body to get to the top, and stay there, at such a young age - he can appreciate the gesture for what it is: an olive branch from a boy who still has far too many hangups when it comes to exposing his vulnerable underside. “But...me knowing the exact limits of your body isn’t actually the crux of the issue here. You get that right?”

 

“I don’t get why not,” Yuri retorts, his posture still so defensive but his voice sounding so lost. “You know what my body can handle now, so you won’t push it too far again. I don’t understand why we can’t just go back to how things were.” He pauses for a second, his expression so forlorn as he fixes Otabek with a pleading stare. “We were good together, weren’t we?”

 

“Oh Yura, of course we were.” Otabek feels like his heart might have actually split in two, he reaches across the table to grasp Yuri’s hand, rejoicing when Yuri doesn’t immediately pull away. “We still are, or we will be. I swear, we’ll sort this out.”

 

Yuri still looks so dejected, but his hand is warm underneath Otabek’s. It gives him the strength to continue speaking, to finally put into words what has been bothering him ever since their catastrophic scene. “The sort of relationship we have, the things we do together...at the heart of all of it is trust.” Otabek starts rubbing small circles into Yuri’s palm, focusing on the soft skin underneath his thumb as he speaks. “You trust me to look after you, mind and body, and I trust you to use your safewords to let me know when something has gone too far. Dominance and submission isn’t a one-way street, it’s all about give and take. You give me your absolute submission, and in return I give you the control you desire. Back and forth, push and pull, you know?” He pauses to check that Yuri is following what he’s saying, taking a deep breath before continuing. This next bit is going to be hard. He doesn’t know quite how to phrase this without sounding like he’s blaming Yuri for what happened, which isn’t the case at all. 

 

“One of the reasons I’ve been struggling so much with … with everything that happened the other day, is that it feels like I didn’t look after you properly during our scene. I know that I’m the one who always says that sometimes things go wrong during scenes, but this didn’t feel like something had just gone wrong. It felt like … it felt like negligence, like I didn’t do enough to make sure you were safe.” 

 

Yuri looks like he’s about to object, so Otabek hold up his hand to stop him from saying anything, this is going to be hard enough to get through even without interruptions. 

 

“Please, let me finish. I’ve known from the start what you can be like, Yura, and believe me when I say I would never ask you to change. I love you, prickles and all, and I love that you feel like you can come to me when things get too much, that you allow me to take care of you in such an important way. I swear, I’ve always done everything in my power to give you what you need in those times, and that won’t ever change. But...but I need to be sure that I  _ can _ look after you when you come to me. I need to know that I can rely on you to let me know if things are going too far.

 

“When you didn’t tell me that I was pushing your shoulder too hard, it felt like an element of trust had been lost between us. If I can’t trust you to use your safewords when things get too much, then I can’t trust myself to look after you properly. And if I can’t trust myself to give you the proper care and attention you deserve, then I don’t know if we should be doing this at all...” Otabek trails off, unable to even finish the thought in his head let alone voice it out loud.

 

Yuri stares at Otabek for a long time after he’s finished speaking, his brow still furrowed but his expression now more appraising than upset. Otabek starts to shift in his seat, unsure of what’s going through Yuri’s head as the younger boy stares, and stares. Eventually his usually infinite patience wears out and he reaches out with his other hand to cover Yuri’s as well. “Say something, Yuri. Anything. Please?”

 

Yuri sighs loudly, and flips their palms over so that he’s now the one holding Otabek’s hands in his own. “Okay, okay,” he starts, then pauses. He’s clearly taking the time to really choose his words, drawing his lower lip through his teeth as he thinks. 

 

“Okay, here’s what I think. Do you think there’s maybe, possibly, a chance that you might be overreacting here?”

 

Otabek draws back, affronted. The gleam in Yuri’s eye, the slight lilt to his carefully chosen words...is Yuri  _ teasing  _ him? He opens and closes his mouth a few times, doing an excellent impression of a fish out of water. Did he honestly hear that right?

 

“I know, I know, kinda hypocritical for me to say that, right?” Yuri continues, and if that’s not teasing in his voice then  _ at the very least _ it’s fond exasperation. Otabek feels like he’s suddenly entered an alternate dimension; weren’t they supposed to be having a serious conversation about the future of their relationship? “But honestly, can we at least  _ try  _ to not throw the baby out with the bathwater here?” 

 

“Huh?” Otabek replies oh-so eloquently, brain struggling to keep up.

 

Yuri sighs, expression serious again, and he starts stroking little circles into the top of Otabek’s hands in mimicry of his own actions not ten minutes earlier. “You’re making such a big deal about me not saying anything about my shoulder, but how are you so sure that I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t noticed when you did? Isn’t that the more important point here, the fact that you realized something was wrong  _ in spite  _ of me not saying anything?” Yuri huffs and lifts up Otabek’s hands to nuzzle them with his nose, the gesture so intimate that it makes something inside Otabek crack. “You’re so determined to beat yourself up for almost not noticing I was in pain, but the reality is that that you  _ did  _ notice. You noticed that things weren’t right and you brought me up enough to address them. Isn’t that exactly what you should have done given the circumstances?”

 

“I…I don’t…” Otabek stutters, not sure what to say in the face of such intractable logic. Yuri’s point makes sense, he guesses, but it still doesn’t  _ feel  _ like he did like the right thing. He has a sneaking suspicion that Yuri thinks he’s fundamentally overreacting, that he’s digging his heels in for no good reason. Part of him wishes he could be as relaxed as his boyfriend about the whole ordeal, wishes he could have the same unwavering faith that things will work themselves out. But a larger, louder part of him simply can’t accept how Yuri can be so damn calm about everything, not when his insides are still tying themselves in knots with the what-if’s and the maybes. “But what if I hadn’t noticed? What then?” he protests, unable to let go of this very possible, very plausible scenario. 

 

Yuri shrugs. “I’m sure you would have if my shoulder had actually dislocated, it’s not exactly subtle.” He tightens his hold on Otabek’s hands when he instinctively recoils. “Oh come on Beka, it’s really not the end of the world. Besides, aren’t you the one who always reminds me that things sometimes go wrong during scenes?”

 

“Dislocated. Shoulder.” Otabek spits out, completely unable to handle Yuri’s cavalier attitude to the whole situation. “Fuck, Yuri. Is this all just a big joke to you?”

 

Yuri jerks back at the sudden bite to Otabek’s tone and he opens his mouth to protest, but Otabek doesn't give him the chance to speak. 

 

“No, no. Listen to me. What we do, it's not play pretend. When we scene, it's on me to look after you. It’s  _ all _ on me, and if something goes wrong there's a very real chance that you'll get seriously hurt. That  _ I'll _ be the one to seriously hurt you. Do you understand that Yuri? Do you?”

 

Yuri tries to answer but Otabek cuts him off again. All of the anxiety, all of the worry of the past few days has finally bubbled to the surface, and he’s powerless to stop it as it flows from his lips in an angry wave. 

 

“Because sometimes, I really don't think you do. Sometimes-” his voice breaks as he finally gives voice to that dark fear that's been plaguing him ever since their last punishment scene. “-sometimes it feels like this is all a game to you. A game to see just how far you can push me to hurt you.”

 

“Woah, Beka, hold up,” Yuri waves his hands to cut Otabek off, eyes wide in shock. “Is that… is that really what you think I'm doing?”

 

He sounds so hurt, so confused that Otabek almost wishes he could take it back. Say no, of course he didn't really mean it, and wipe away that look of pain from his boyfriend’s face. 

 

“Yes,” he says instead, hating the word as it hits the air. “Sometimes, yes. I think that you forget there's actually a person on the other end of the hand, or the whip, or whatever. I think you forget that when you push for harder, I'm the one who has to make it so.”

 

“Oh, Beka,” Yuri’s expression crumples, shifts his chair closer, squeezing Otabek’s hands tightly between his. “I've been the worst sub in the world.”

 

The statement makes something crack inside Otabek’s chest, and he doesn't trust himself to speak as he slowly meets Yuri’s gaze. 

 

“I had no idea you felt that way. God, I hate that I ever made you feel like I don't treasure the way you look after me.” Yuri pauses, expression twisting as something suddenly clicks into place. “Is this… is this because of our other scene, the one where I made you hit my bruise?”

 

Otabek grunts in affirmation. “You said you wouldn't do it again, you  _ promised _ me Yura.” 

 

Yuri frowns, confused. “I know, and I haven't… wait, is that what you thought I was doing with my shoulder?”

 

Now it's Otabek’s turn to look confused. “Weren't you? You didn't want to tell me that it was hurting you.”

 

“Because I was already under!” Yuri’s sounds exasperated, but there's an unmistakable thread of fondness there, like he's having to explain something obvious to a small child. “I was in my little subspace bubble and everything felt so good. I didn't even realize my shoulder was hurting until you checked in with me - like the great dom that you  _ clearly _ are.” He raises an eyebrow pointedly at Otabek, as if challenging him to disagree. 

 

“I don't… that's not what it felt like to me.” Otabek's brain feels like putty, stretched to its limits as Yuri takes the scene that Otabek has been replaying in his mind for three days straight and flips it completely on its head. 

 

“That's because you've worked yourself up into such a state over our other scene you're now seeing dragons everywhere,” Yuri explains. “Look, I know I fucked up when I tried to get you to hurt me, but I meant it when I said it wouldn’t happen again. That's not where my head is normally at when I sub, I swear. It's more like I'm taking a calculated risk…actually, it’s like skating!” Yuri’s tone brightens as he makes the comparison, but Otabek’s still not sure he's fully following. He frowns at Yuri, who huffs and shuffles forward in his seat. 

 

“Okay, so every time I step onto the ice, I know that there’s a chance I’ll hurt myself. I could say that the risk isn’t worth it, that the satisfaction I get from skating isn’t worth the possibility of seriously injuring myself, but that’s not true is it? All the pain, all the bruises, it’s all forgotten when I step out in front of that crowd and perform. I wouldn’t give that feeling up for anything, would you?”

 

“Of course not,” Otabek agrees slowly, still not quite sure how this analogy is going to tie into their sex life but willing to give Yuri the benefit of the doubt for now. 

 

“So all I can do is make sure that I take all the precautions I can to make sure I  _ don't _ hurt myself on the ice. And I know I'm not the best at knowing my own limits, which is why I have Yakov... and Katsudon and Victor I guess,” Yuri says the last bit with a grimace, like it physically pains him to acknowledge his rink mates like this. 

 

“They keep me in check while I'm practicing, and you keep me in check when I'm submitting. Subspace is my performance; it's where everything just feels  _ right _ , where everything that came before is suddenly worth it. I’m not pushing you to hurt me, I'm pushing myself to be the best I can be, and trusting you to pull me back when I start to go too far. You're like my Yakov of the bedroom!”

 

“Oh god, please don't ever make that comparison again,” Otabek protests, but it feels like what Yuri is trying to say is finally starting to make sense. Without the haze of guilt and judgment that's been clouding his brain these past few days, he can finally see their scenes how Yuri describes them; how they really are. Not a horrible mess of obligation and pushed limits, but a beautiful exchange of trust and power.

 

“And I know that there’s still more chance of something going wrong than if we stuck to the vanilla stuff. But what I get out of it, what  _ we  _ get out of it together, that has to be worth the risks... right?” Yuri’s voice trails off on the last word, his passion suddenly replaced with hesitance as he realizes that it is actually a question, not a statement of fact. 

 

“Yes, definitely.” Otabek says firmly, because even if he doesn’t know anything else right now, he knows that. “And I do want to be there for you Yuri, you know I do. I want to be the one you come to when you need release. I want to be the one who pulls you back from the edge when you start to creep nearer to it. I don’t want you to think that it’s a chore for me to dominate you, because it’s not. It never has been. I just...ugh!” he throws his hands up in exasperation as the words to describe how he’s feeling continue to elude him. “I don’t think I even know what I want any more. I just want it to feel  _ right _ again, like I’m not constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

 

“I get that,” Yuri says, a hint of a relieved smile on his face. “And I get that even if it wasn’t intentional, I’ve clearly been pushing you more than you’re comfortable with.” He takes a deep breath, taking Otabek’s hands again before he speaks. “So how about this, we add it to our contract that if I start to push you too far again, then that’s grounds for punishment. Not the painful kind!” he clarifies hurriedly when Otabek flinches at the implication, “Something I’d  _ really _ hate, like a time-out on my own, or making me watching JJ’s skating routines or something. That’s probably more painful than any impact punishment you could come up with anyway. The point is it can be whatever you choose, whatever you’re comfortable with.”

 

Otabek’s eyes widen in surprise at Yuri’s suggestion. It’s… well it’s kind of perfect really. A way to let Yuri know he’s going too far, in a way that doesn’t completely derail their scene, and a way for Otabek to push back if he starts to feel uncomfortable, while still keeping control. It’s a real, tangible solution, because they both know that that words and promises only go so far, and Otabek feels almost lightheaded with relief.

 

“You would be okay with that?” he clarifies, because he has to be sure.

 

Yuri shrugs, like it’s the easiest question in the world to answer. “I trust you to look after me, that’s never going to change.”

 

That one sentence is all it takes, apparently, for Otabek to lose the last thread of his composure. He lets out a slightly hysterical laugh and buries his face in his arms on the table in front of him.

 

“Beka?” Yuri’s voice is half concerned, half teasing as he lightly touches Otabek on his shoulder. “Did I break you?” 

 

Otabek lets out another pained laugh, burying his face even deeper in his arms. He really is well and truly fucked when it comes to Yuri Plisetsky.

 

“Fuck, that was sneaky,” he mumbles into his arm, but there’s a lightness to his voice he knows Yuri will hear. All of the concerns that previously seemed so insurmountable have effectively been muted in the face of Yuri’s unshakable faith in their dynamic. If Yuri says that they’re going to be okay, then Otabek can’t really do anything but at least try and believe him.

 

He feels the warm press of Yuri’s chest against his back, his hands sneaking around his waist and chin coming to rest on his shoulder. “I know, but you love me anyway,” Yuri says lowly, nuzzling into Otabek’s neck in the exact way he knows will make Otabek go weak in the knees. Sneaky motherfucker. 

 

“I love you because of it,” Otabek corrects, leaning into the contact on instinct, because there’s nothing that he loves Yuri  _ in spite of _ . Every sharp corner, every rough edge, they all come together to make one startlingly perfect Yuri, and Otabek wouldn’t change anything about him for the world

 

He hears Yuri laugh, feels the warm puff of breath against his neck, and then Yuri is peeling away from him, rounding the table and sauntering over to the sofa.

 

“Yuri?” Otabek asks questioningly, then repeats himself more forcefully when Yuri simply pulls his t-shirt over his head in response. “Yuri, what are you doing?”

 

Yuri sprawls topless on the sofa, fixing Otabek with a sultry look as he leans back against the armrest. He hooks one leg over the back of the couch, letting the other dangle lazily towards the floor, the bulge between his legs prominent and obvious. He looks sinful, there’s really no other word for it. 

 

“I think you believe me when I say I trust you, but I don’t know if you truly trust me yet.” Yuri says, voice low and seductive as he starts to palm himself lazily through the rough fabric of his jeans. His gaze drops down to his crotch to watch his movements, and Otabek can’t help but do the same. He watches as Yuri’s breath starts to hitch in time with every rough press against his growing hardness, and despite everything he feels himself start to swell in response. Yuri’s eyes flick back to meet Otabek’s, pupils blown as he looks up from beneath his lashes, and Otabek is pretty sure he stops breathing for a good few seconds.

 

“Please, Beka, let me remind you how good I can be for you.”


	6. Chapter 6

Time stands still as the full weight of Yuri’s words sink in, the spell eventually broken by the undignified squark that erupts from Otabek as the suggestion finally hits home.

 

“ _Yuri_ ,” he says, as scandalised as he is aroused, cursing himself for how easily he’s swayed by Yuri so blatantly flaunting his body like this. “Now is hardly the time.”

 

“Now is _exactly_ the time,” Yuri counters, his hand starting to rub in tighter circles, his breath coming in shorter gasps. “I trust you, I never stopped trusting you. But you need to learn to trust me again. There’s nothing I can say that will convince you, so let me _show_ you instead.”

 

Otabek has to grip the edge of the table in front of him to stop himself from going over to Yuri. His boyfriend has started letting out little whimpers, his lashes fluttering as he continues to palm himself through his clothes. “Please Beka, we’ll take it slow I swear,” Yuri says, breath hitching every few words. “You don’t even have to touch me, just direct me how you want me. I’ll be so good for you I promise. Just... just don't turn me away.”

 

The dominant creature inside of him pricks its ears up at Yuri’s plaintive request, stretches its limbs as it wakes from its enforced slumber, and Otabek knows that this is a fight he’s not going to win. He’s not entirely sure he even wants to anymore.

 

He knows he’s being a weak, weak man as he crosses the room to stand looking down at Yuri from the foot of the sofa, but he comforts himself with the knowledge that there probably isn’t a person alive strong enough to resist Yuri Plisetsky when he’s like this.

 

“Take your jeans off.” His voice sounds hoarse and scratchy to his own ears, like he hasn’t spoken for hours rather than minutes, but Yuri races to comply regardless, throwing his jeans and briefs on the floor next to him before clenching his hands in fists by his hips. It takes Otabek a moment to realize that Yuri’s waiting for permission to touch himself, but when he does the creature inside him growls in satisfaction.

 

“Please, please can I…” Yuri pants, and Otabek feels himself swelling in his boxers at how wrecked Yuri already sounds.

 

“Touch yourself for me,” he orders, and watches breathless as Yuri starts to rapidly stroke himself.

 

“Oooh, it feels so good. It’s been so long, Beka. ‘m close already,” Yuri whimpers, his hand moving at lightning speed along his length.

 

“Not yet, slow down.” It comes so naturally to him to guide Yuri like this, as effortless as breathing. He’s struggling to remember why he was so afraid of this; how could anything that makes Yuri looks so completely blissed out ever be bad?

 

“Don’t come until I say you can,” Otabek says as Yuri dutifully slows his movements to practically a crawl, “If you come without permission I’ll...be disappointed in you.” It’s not what he had been planning on saying; that command has always been followed up with the threat of spanking for disobedience when they’ve done this in the past, but the words catch in his throat and he sidesteps at the last moment. He just can’t bring himself to do it; punishment isn’t something he’s comfortable with even alluding to right now. He hopes Yuri won’t mind too much.

 

If Yuri notices Otabek’s temporary lapse in form, he certainly doesn't react to it. Instead he lets out a desperate whine, shaking his head adamantly as he continues to stroke his length oh-so slowly. “I won’t, I swear it. ‘M gonna be be so good for you, sir, so good.” Otabek’s disappointment is clearly more than enough of a deterrent for Yuri, and Otabek feels the tension seep from his shoulders as he watches his boyfriend slowly come undone in front of him.

 

Maybe, for tonight at least, what he can offer is enough.

 

“Tell me when you’re close, but don’t stop touching yourself unless I say you can.” An idea has come to him, buoyed by Yuri’s positive reaction to his gentle commands so far. If Yuri wants to prove to Otabek that he can still trust him, then Otabek has a way for him to do just that.

 

He starts off easy, instructing Yuri to stop touching himself as soon as he indicates he’s getting close, and allowing him almost a full minute to calm down before telling him to start again. Yuri’s breath comes in great, gulping gasps as he struggles to get his body under control, and Otabek thinks it might just be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

 

The second time, he isn’t so nice. When Yuri whimpers that he’s reaching his limit Otabek slowly counts to five under his breath. Yuri’s face crumples even as he obediently continues to stroke himself, his expression one of barely disguised panic as he creeps closer and closer to that forbidden edge. It’s only when Otabek finishes counting that he takes pity on Yuri, giving him permission to remove his hand, and Yuri’s hand flies away from his cock so fast it makes Otabek blink.

 

He allows Yuri even less recovery time this time around, ordering him to start touching himself again well before he’s fully regained control of his body. Yuri is hesitant as he wraps his hand around his throbbing cock, but not as hesitant as one might expect given the direction this scene is so clearly headed. Otabek has a sneaking suspicion that Yuri has been subtly nudging them in this direction from the moment he stripped off his top. He doesn't know whether to be impressed or offended that Yuri can play him so well without him even realizing.

 

Either way, it means he doesn't even try to muzzle the creature inside of him when it growls in satisfaction at Yuri’s whimpers, the noises getting steadily more desperate as time passes. Yuri did say he wanted to prove himself, after all.

 

The duration between Yuri’s warnings get increasingly shorter, and Otabek is relentless in pushing him closer and closer to his edge each time. He watches Yuri’s face like a hawk, analyzing every micro-expression that flutters across the younger boy’s features until he’s sure that he’s waiting until the very last moment before finally allowing him a respite.

 

“Oh god, no more. Please, I’m so close. Need to come so bad,” Yuri begs, words starting to slur together from exhaustion, hand falling limply away from his dick as soon as Otabek allows him a break. There are tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, his whole body shaking with barely contained tension, and Otabek feels a stab of insecurity as he takes in Yuri’s broken form.

 

“Yuri,” he says, voice suddenly unsure as he reaches out to touch Yuri’s shoulder tentatively. Yuri’s been so good for him, so perfectly obedient even as his body has started to physically rebel against the strict commands. After all their discussion about Yuri pushing too much, has Otabek now been the one to take it too far?

 

Yuri’s eyes snap open, expression furious as he stares Otabek down. “Green,” he says, voice suddenly hard. “Don’t stop, don’t you _dare_ stop.”

 

Of course, they still have their safewords; the most precious of safety nets. Otabek doesn’t know why he ever doubted them, doubted Yuri’s ability to use them. He breathes a small sigh of relief as his hand sneaks up from Yuri’s shoulder to card though his hair, a gentle gesture designed to soothe the fire burning in his boyfriend’s eyes. “Oh sweetheart,” he croons, his momentary hesitation all but forgotten, “I haven’t even started yet.”

 

He brings Yuri to the edge over and over, pushing him just that little bit further and watching him drop just that little bit harder each time. Yuri slipping into subspace is probably one of the most beautiful things he has ever had the pleasure of experiencing, Otabek thinks to himself as he watches Yuri pant heavily, slack jawed and glassy eyed. He strokes a soothing hand through Yuri’s sweaty hair, having moved around to kneel by Yuri’s head during the last round, and mutters comforting nonsense that washes over the younger boy.

 

He still can't quite believe that he, of all the people in this huge, huge world, has been granted the sole privilege of being allowed to take down the bricks of the angry, resilient wall that makes up Yuri’s hard exterior, exposing his soft underside - vulnerable and completely undefended - to him and him alone. Yuri is amazing no matter what he's doing, whether it's landing a quad Lutz in competition or ripping Victor a new one for posting something inappropriate on Instagram, and Otabek loves Yuri with everything that he has, no matter what version he gets on any given day, but this particular side of his boyfriend is a whole new definition for the word breathtaking.

 

“I know, I know, it's hard isn't it?” he croons as Yuri’s breathing hitches and stutters, “You're doing so well for me Yura, so perfect for me.” He carefully scans Yuri’s face and body, searching for any signs of distress. Otabek isn't taking any chances, not today, not ever again.

 

Yuris dick looks painfully hard against his belly, the tip flushed an angry red and weeping a steady stream of precome after almost an hour of continued assault. “So good for me,” he repeats as he strokes a light finger from balls to tip, drawing a full body shudder from Yuri as a result. “Think you can go for one more?”

 

Yuri nods adamantly, his eyes wide as he desperately tries to focus on Otabek above him. “I can… I can do it…” he says, dragging himself up just enough to string a full sentence together. “For… for you, Beka. Wanna go again for you.”

 

Otabek growls and drops his head to claim Yuri’s lips in a passionate kiss, tongue licking deep and possessive as the heat coils within him in response to Yuri’s words. Yuri simply moans and lets his jaw relax, too strung out and too exhausted to do anything more than accept everything that Otabek gives him.

 

“So fucking perfect,” Otabek mutters against Yuri’s mouth, one hand cradling the back of his neck while the other reaches over to cover Yuri’s hand, bringing it down to curl around his oversensitive dick. “One more for me Yura, just one more.”

 

Yuris fingers dutifully wrap around his cock under Otabek's guiding hand, and the sound he makes in response is almost pained.

 

“Oh sweetheart,” Otabek croons, nuzzling his nose soothingly against Yuri’s even as he forces Yuri to tighten his grip around himself. “Are you close already?”

 

Yuri nods balefully, eyes glassy with tears as he stares up at Otabek. “It's so much,” he whispers, hand trembling as much as his voice as he tries to follow Otabek’s orders.

 

“Shhh, it's okay Yura, I've got you.” Otabek presses another soft kiss to Yuri’s lips. “Just five strokes, okay? Five strokes and then you're done. Look i’ll even help you.” He starts to move his hand, forcing the lax circle of Yuri’s fingers to glide slowly along his length. “That's it, good boy,” he praises, grinning when Yuri melts in response, eyes slipping closed and mouth dropping open lazily.

 

“That's one… two… three…. Come on Yuri _three_ … that’s it, good boy… and four...and that’s five.” Otabek relaxes his grip as promised and Yuri’s hand drops heavily away from his cock, resting limp on the sofa next to him as his chest heaves. There's a thick glob of come beading at his slit, and Otabek thinks the only reason he hasn't erupted completely is the iron grasp he holds over his body, even in the depths of subspace.

 

“So, so good for me,” Otabek repeats, peppering Yuri’s face with light kisses as a reward for obeying him so well for so long. “Okay, my perfect perfect boy, you can come now.”

 

He expects Yuri’s hand to immediately return to his cock to finish himself off, but instead his whole body tenses as his fingers flex impotently down by his side. He's making no apparent move to bring himself to climax, and Otabek frowns in confusion.

 

“Do you not want to come, Yuri?” he prompts. It's not unheard of for Yuri to tip past his peak during edging, but Otabek is sure he hasn’t reached that stage yet. He strokes a finger gently along Yuri’s jawline, encouraging the boy to come back up enough to talk to him.

 

Yuri opens his eyes slowly, like it's a physical effort to bring himself back into the room. He tries to lift his hand to return the gesture, but abandons the clearly herculean task as soon as his fingers manage to trace along Otabek’s cheek. “Want you to come…” he slurs, brows furrowing in concentration as he speaks. “...need you to come too.”

 

Otabek groans, head dropping to rest against Yuri’s as one hand starts to scrabble at the opening of his jeans. Until now his arousal has mostly been a simmering afterthought, a constant presence in the back of his mind but far less important than the submissive in front of him. Now though, in the face of Yuri’s plaintive request, his cock has swelled to full hardness and is pressing almost painfully against the metal teeth of his zipper. The urge to get himself off his almost overwhelming, not least because it’s obviously what Yuri wants.

 

“ _Fuck_ , Yuri. Do you even realize what do you to me when you say things like that?”

 

Yuri’s response is another desperate whimper as his fingers reach up to help part the fabric of Otabek’s jeans and boxers underneath, both of them working to free his cock from its confines. “Please Beka… Mark me... _claim me_ … Show me I’m yours.”

 

Otabek groans again, hand dropping down to start roughly working his length. He’s already close -  Yuri’s pleading having brought him to the cusp of climax practically untouched - and unlike his submissive there’s nothing stopping him from heading straight for completion.  He gasps as his orgasm rips through him, painting long stripes across Yuri’s belly and chest and almost completely covering the tattoo that wraps around his boyfriend’s side.

 

Yuri positively wails as Otabek’s hot seed hits his flesh, and it only takes one long stroke of his cock for him to join his dominant in climax. Pride curls hot and fierce in Otabek’s chest as Yuri’s abused dick erupts, spurting violently and covering even more of his torso in thick ropes of come.

 

“Look at you, such a mess,” Otabek chides, still a bit breathless from his own orgasm. He drags a finger along Yuri’s sternum, collecting a mixture of his and Yuri’s release on his fingertip before lifting the digit to tap against Yuri’s lower lip.

 

“Suck,” he commands, feeling a rush as Yuri obediently starts to suckle his finger, licking it clean of their combined release. He gazes unseeingly up at Otabek, a small smile tugging at the the corner of his lips; he’s dropped and dropped hard. Otabek can't contain the wide grin that spreads across his face in response.

 

He can feel the satisfaction that comes from a good scene start to sink into his bones, an old friend that's as familiar as it is comforting. Behind the satisfaction sits a new, unexpected emotion though, and it takes him a moment to recognize what it is.

 

It's relief.

 

Relief for the physical, tangible confirmation that his relationship with Yuri is not damaged as he feared it might be. Relief that he can still take pleasure in wielding this dynamic to provide his boyfriend with the outlet so obviously craves. Relief that Yuri believed in him, believed in _them_ , when his own conviction was at its most fragile. The emotion that floods through him is so intense, so visceral, that for a moment Otabek finds himself struggling to remember how to breathe.

 

“You did so well for me, Yura,” he praises as he slowly removes his finger from Yuri’s mouth, shushing the boy with a quick kiss when he whimpers and tries to chase after it. “I don't know what I ever did to deserve you.”

 

He wonders if Yuri can even hear him through the haze of subspace, wonders if he understands that he's talking about so much more than just this scene. He thinks probably not, but that's okay. For now.

 

He strokes his hand gently through Yuris sweaty locks, smilingly helplessly as Yuri mewls and turns into the touch. “Okay, let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”

 

He picks Yuri up bridal style, avoiding the mess that is starting to congeal on his chest. It’s a testament to how far gone Yuri is that he simply wraps his arms around Otabek’s neck and nuzzles contentedly into his shoulder, rather than kicking up a fuss and demanding to be put down.

 

Otabek carries him into the bedroom and gently sets him down on top of the comforter before quickly disappearing into the bathroom to grab a damp cloth. He slowly, meticulously cleans the drying come off Yuri’s chest, muttering soothing praise to the younger boy as he works. By the time the worst of the mess has been cleaned up Yuri’s gaze is starting to sharpen, and when Otabek returns from the bathroom a second time - having deposited the cloth in the sink to be dealt with at a later date - Yuri is actively propping himself up on the pillows.

 

“Welcome back soldier,” Otabek says casually, quickly stripping out of his clothes and slipping into bed next to Yuri. Yuri immediately pillows his head on Otabek’s chest, arms snaking around his waist, and Otabek is all too happy to lie in silence and simply rub his hand soothingly along Yuri’s spine as his boyfriend slowly pieces himself back together.

 

It takes a while for Yuri to come back up fully, but Otabek is in no rush. Honestly, he could spend full days like this and consider it time well spent. Eventually Yuri starts to fidget though, getting increasingly discontent to simply sprawl across Otabek’s chest.

 

“Such a wriggler,” Otabek teases, wrapping his arm tighter around Yuri’s waist in an attempt to anchor him. Yuri scowls and scratches his nails down Otabek’s chest, leaving bright red streaks in his wake.

 

Oh yes, the Ice Tiger of Russia is definitely back in the room.

 

“How was that?” Otabek asks, ignoring Yuri’s actions in favor of dropping his head to press a soft kiss to Yuri’s crown. Yuri hisses and scratches him again.

 

“That’s a dumb question,” Yuri replies, though there’s not as much bite to his voice as Otabek would expect. He senses Yuri has more to say, so he chooses not to respond.

 

As he anticipated, less than a minute passes before Yuri twists his head to look up at Otabek, expression suddenly serious. “You enjoyed it too, right?”

 

Otabek takes a moment to really consider the question. A part of him still can’t believe quite how much he _did_ enjoy it, especially considering the emotional turmoil this part of their relationship has put him through these past few days. There’s no denying it though, seeing Yuri desperate and begging for him has done something dark and wonderful to his insides. He doesn’t think he quite appreciated just how much he gets out of this dynamic with Yuri, not until he had to truly consider the idea of giving it up for good.

 

Yuri clearly mistakes his silence for hesitance, because his brow suddenly furrows in concern. “I mean..if you didn’t then that’s okay...I know things have been weird for you these past few days, and if you don’t want to do this...this BDSM stuff any more then I understand. I just want you Beka, it doesn’t have to be like this if you don’t want it any more.” He’s babbling, the words spilling from his lips hot and fast, and it’s practically instinct for Otabek to quell the tide by pressing a soft kiss to Yuri’s lips.

 

When he draws back Yuri is wide-eyed, expression torn between pained and aroused. Otabek doesn’t know how much it must have taken for Yuri to say that to him, especially after having just emerged from the blissful comfort of subspace. Even though Otabek knows that he was the one who introduced Yuri to this dynamic in the first place, it doesn’t stop him from being heart-shudderingly touched at the thought that Yuri would give it all up if that was what Otabek truly wanted.

 

Lucky for both of them, then, that it’s not what Otabek wants at all. Not in the slightest.

 

“Don’t think for a second that I didn’t enjoy every moment of that,” he says with conviction, fingers wrapping around Yuri’s chin so that he can hold the younger boy’s gaze as he speaks. He watches as Yuri visibly relaxes at the confirmation, and feels another wave of pride and love wash over him at how much this relationship clearly means to Yuri. “I want you, this, all of it. I swear I do.”

 

Yuri practically whines as he lunges forward to claim Otabek’s mouth in a searing kiss, teeth nipping possessively at Otabek’s lower lip. Otabek happily returns the gesture, letting his mouth slip open so that Yuri’s tongue can dart inside, tracing the inner planes of Otabek’s mouth with an ardent reverence. They kiss hot and lazy for what feels like hours, until they both have to surface for air and reluctantly pull away from one another. Otabek lovingly strokes the back of his finger along Yuri’s cheek, and wonders what great deed he must have performed in a previous life to be so lucky.

 

“There are some things I’m not sure I’m comfortable doing right now,” he says reluctantly, wanting nothing more than to simply sink back into Yuri’s touch and ignore everything that brought them to this place to begin with. He knows this needs to be said, though, before he allows himself to completely lose himself in Yuri’s mouth again. “We might have to work back up to things like corporal punishment, or more intense bondage. But we’ll get there again eventually, I promise.”

 

Yuri nods, and though Otabek searches his expression for disappointment all he can see is love and commitment. “That’s fine, Beka, take all the time you need.” He pauses, as if considering whether to continue. “I meant what I said,” he eventually says, expression twisted and words slow like molasses. It’s clearly a genuine struggle for him to be this candid, and Otabek falls all the more in love with him for it. “I just want you, in whatever form you’re offering.”

 

Otabek doesn’t trust himself to speak right away, something hot and painful lodging in his throat at Yuri’s open declaration. Instead he tightens his grip around Yuri’s waist, drawing him even closer into his side so that he can nuzzle his face into the junction of Yuri’s neck, breathing in the sharp sweetness of his boyfriend. When he finally trusts himself to speak without his voice cracking he pulls away, fixing Yuri with a small but completely genuine smile. He feels lighter than he has in days, lighter than he thought would ever be possible in the wake of the past week’s events.

 

“You have me, Yura,” he promises fervently. “For as long as you want me, you have me.”


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the final chapter - I think this one might be almost as long as all the other chapters combined! Thank you so so much to everybody who had read, liked and commented, you are all totally amazing!
> 
> If you like this story so far, consider subscribing to the Precious Metals series? I have an entry for the YOI Shit Bang which is in the same 'verse as this (It's actually set partway through this chapter!) and the post date for that is next week, so you'll be seeing me again super soon!

**_1 Month Later_ **

 

Yuri emerges from the bathroom completely naked save for the small towel wrapped low on his hips, skin still damp and faintly steaming from the shower. He smirks as he slinks his way over to where Otabek is sitting still fully clothed on the edge of the bed, eyes locked on the other boy with an expression that can only be described as predatory.

 

“Happy Birthday, Beka,” he whispers seductively as he folds himself into Otabek’s lap, arms coming up to wrap possessively around his boyfriend’s neck. He drops his head to nibble lightly on Otabek’s lower earlobe while Otabek’s hands flutter lightly against his hips. “How do you want to use me to celebrate?”

 

It’s a question laden with promise, filled to the brim with expectation. Yuri has already showered Otabek with gifts today but now he is handing him the most precious one of all; his body, to use however Otabek wants. Yuri’s skin is throbbing underneath Otabek’s fingers, his hips rocking lazily down into Otabek’s lap as he starts to press hot, open-mouthed kisses down the side of neck. His movements are dripping with raw, unbridled desire; this is a Yuri who would very much like to be ridden hard and put away wet. Quite possibly twice, if energy levels and refractory periods don’t get in the way.

 

And Otabek, Otabek freezes.

 

It’s been little more than a month since everything went so horribly wrong between them, and while they’ve been making good progress discussing new limits and redrawing boundary lines, their sex life has been decidedly _vanilla_ since their impromptu edging session.

 

It’s not that Otabek doesn’t want to start taking things further between them again. He thinks he wants it more than he’s wanted anything in his life, including winning gold at the Grand Prix Final. He’s woken up achingly hard at least twice this week alone, images of Yuri spread out and begging underneath him flickering at the edge of his consciousness.

 

Yuri grinding down into his lap is certainly not helping in that department either. His brain is filling with ideas just as eagerly as his cock is filling with blood, but it feels like there are two personalities at war inside of him. An angel and a devil on each shoulder, perhaps, or maybe two very different dominants going toe to toe for use of their submissive.

 

He had always been so sure of his desires, so confident in his ability to leash the wild, untamed energy that fills Yuri to the brim, desperate for some sort of outlet. But now uncertainty paralyzes him, leaves him unable to process what he even wants to do, let alone how to vocalize it to Yuri.

 

Yuri seems to sense his indecision and leans back, body suddenly tense. “Beka?” he asks, voice hesitant, like he can sense what’s coming and is hoping against hope that he’s wrong.

 

Otabek can only stare up at Yuri in silence, throat suddenly dry as he somehow loses the ability to speak. Yuri’s expression shutters, switching in an instant from desperately aroused to painfully neutral.

 

“Oh...I see,” he says, refusing to meet Otabek’s eyes as he slithers down from his lap, hands starting to flutter over his skin like he’s suddenly ashamed of his state of undress. “Fuck me for trying, right?”

 

He turns to flee, into the bathroom to get changed or maybe straight out of the apartment still wearing just a towel. Either way Otabek knows that if he lets Yuri leave now, there might not be any coming back from this. There’s a very good chance that he’s finally pushed his boyfriend’s patience past it’s natural limit. His hand whips out to catch Yuri’s wrist before he gets out of range, his body up to speed with the situation even if his brain isn’t just yet.

 

“Wait,” he croaks, throat still far too dry. He coughs and wets his lips as Yuri turns back towards him, shoulders hunched inwards. Their recent arguments have left Yuri even more skittish than usual; equally likely to retreat to the safety of his apartment when faced with confrontation as he is to stand and fight his ground with words and insults he instantly regrets.

 

“Wait,” Otabek begs again, hating himself for making his boyfriend feel like he might not desire him with every fibre of his being. His brain desperately searches for the words to describe what he’s feeling. “I want...let me be good to you.”

 

Yuri pauses, one eyebrow raised, and Otabek’s heart sinks in anticipation of Yuri’s disappointment at his pathetic request for a scene. He knows exactly what Yuri is craving right now; harsh, intense play that has him screaming as much as moaning. It’s understandable, after almost a month of abstinence from any sort of kink. He holds his breath and forces himself to meet Yuri’s gaze while he waits for an answer. He can still give Yuri what he needs, he knows it. He just needs to be given a chance to prove it, on his own terms.

 

It feels like forever that Yuri just stares at him in silence, and just when Otabek thinks he can’t take it any more he’s treated to that warm, genuine smile that Yuri reserves for Otabek and no-one else. “Yesss,” Yuri says eagerly, rolling the word round on his tongue as he leans down to start pressing hot, open mouthed kisses to Otabek’s neck once more. “Show me how lucky I am to have you, take me apart so that I can’t remember anyone’s name but yours.”

 

Otabek doesn’t even try and hide his exhale of relief as he tips Yuri’s head to press their lips together, a kiss that starts chaste and quickly deepens. Otabek refuses to break contact as he rolls them both back onto the bed, and Yuri goes with him easily, allowing himself to be led.

 

When they finally have to surface for air Otabek quickly strips himself of his clothes, then grabs the end of Yuri’s towel and tugs, causing Yuri to yelp as he rolls out of the length of fabric onto his belly. Otabek laughs and chucks the towel over his shoulder, throwing a leg over Yuri’s waist to straddle his hips. He drops his head to press an apologetic kiss to Yuri’s shoulder-blade, then reaches over to grab the small vial of massage oil he keeps in the top drawer of his bedside table.

 

He pours a healthy amount of liquid into the palm of his left hand, rubbing his palms together to warm it to body temperature before getting to work on the thick muscles of Yuri’s shoulders. Yuri lets out a moan that is borderline erotic, and sinks into the mattress underneath him.

 

“Fuck, Beka, I think this feels better than sex,” he gasps, before realizing what he’s said and twisting his torso to look up in panic at Otabek. “I mean...not that the sex recently has been _bad_. You know I haven’t minded waiting I just meant…”

 

Otabek grins and shushes Yuri with a quick kiss, encouraging him to lie flat again. “I know what you meant, it’s okay,” he reassures, digging his thumb into a particularly tense patch of muscle and smiling as Yuri lets out another involuntary groan. “Although I’m hoping you might re-evaluate your claim once I’m done with you tonight.”  
  
Another moan, and Otabek is reasonably sure that this one one has nothing to do with his hands.

 

Otabek takes his time massaging oil into every inch of Yuri’s back, working out each knot he comes across with care and precision until his boyfriend’s body is lax and pliable underneath him. Then he rolls them both onto their sides, cradling Yuri’s relaxed body and splaying one hand possessively across his chest while he uses yet more oil to work Yuri open with the fingers of his other hand.

 

He’s patient, gentle, giving Yuri plenty of time to adjust to the feel of one finger inside of him before adding a second, and then eventually a third. “How does it feel, sweetheart?” he asks, pressing a soft kiss to Yuri’s collarbone as he pumps his fingers lazily into Yuri’s ass.

 

“Mmm, so good,” Yuri slurs, eyes lidded as he twists his head to smile blearily back at Otabek.

 

“Think you can take another one?” Otabek asks, already teasing at Yuri’s rim with the tip of his pinky. He feels Yuri tense, then immediately relax, his hole fluttering eagerly around the fingers already buried inside of him.

 

“Yes, _yes_ Beka,” he moans, sounding punch-drunk as he rocks his hips invitingly. “Give it to me, give me all of them.”

 

Otabek laughs and presses another kiss to Yuri’s shoulder. “Is that what you want? My whole hand inside of you?” he asks, already knowing what the answer will be. They’ve never done this before, but Yuri has been very vocal about it in the past and, well, there’s a reason Otabek spent so long making sure Yuri was as relaxed as possible before starting.

 

Yuri’s whole body jerks at the suggestion, and the moan that slips from his lips so loud Otabek spares a quick thought for the neighbours before deciding he cares far more about Yuri than he does about them. “Fuck, Beka. You really mean that?” Yuri asks, pushing his ass back onto Otabek’s hand so that he can take his fingers even deeper. Otabek lets out a soft chuckle, pressing a light kiss to the nape of Yuri’s neck as he cones his fingers together in answer. He applies a hint of pressure with the tip of his pinky, and they both gasp as it easily breaches Yuri’s rim.

 

“Look at you, taking all my fingers so well,” Otabek whispers, staring mesmerized as he slowly pushes forwards. He expected there to be resistance but Yuri’s ass just _takes_ it, sucking his fingers in all the way to the second knuckle. He pauses there, allowing Yuri a moment to adjust. “Think you can take it further?” he asks.

 

“Fuuuuuck...Yes, more...gimme it all,” Yuri moans desperately, and Otabek happily obliges, sinking his hand even deeper so that Yuri is spread around his palm.

 

“Hnnnngh,” Yuri whines, and Otabek holds his hand deathly still while Yuri adjusts to the sudden stretch. “So full…”

 

“Does it feel good?” Otabek ask again, caressing Yuri’s strained rim with the pad of his thumb. He could probably fit that in as well if he wanted; sink into Yuri all the way to his wrist. Another time, perhaps.

 

Yuri shivers at the sensation, and Otabek can feel his insides pulsing around his hand. “Sooo good,” he moans, sounding totally gone.

 

Otabek moves his hand slowly inside of Yuri, tiny gestures that still manage to leave his boyfriend a boneless, drooling mess atop the sheets. He wears him out so thoroughly that by the time he eventually brings him to orgasm Yuri’s unable to do more than pant his way weakly through it, small mewls escaping from his throat as he pulses his release onto the bed in front of him.

 

Otabek slowly draws his hand out, keeping his movements slow and deliberate since Yuri is sure to be oversensitive in the wake of his orgasm. Yuri barely reacts, simply letting out a soft whimper when Otabek’s hand finally slips free and he’s left empty.

 

“Shhh, you’re okay,” Otabek reassures him, drawing him closer to his chest and peppering soft kisses everywhere he can reach. His cock is rock hard between his legs, and he knows Yuri can certainly feel it pressing against his thighs - or at least he would be able to feel it if he was in any way cognizant - but he’s happy to indulge in the light friction of Yuri’s sweat slicked skin and no more. He’s put Yuri’s body through a lot tonight; is understandable if he’s done.

 

It turns out Yuri isn’t done quite yet, though, as he slowly reaches behind him to trace a finger lightly along Otabek’s length. He doesn’t appear to have the energy to do much more, but his intent is abundantly clear when he fixes Otabek with a glassy stare and says “So...so empty.” He sounds close to tears.  “Please...please Beka…”

 

Otabek certainly isn’t about to turn down Yuri’s request, especially not when it comes in such a mournful voice. Otabek would have to be made of stone not to give Yuri what he so obviously craves. He slicks his cock with some more of the massage oil and lines himself up with Yuri’s relaxed entrance. He slides in easily, bottoming out so that his hips are flush with Yuri’s ass.

 

Yuri’s breath leaves him in a soft whush, and his body melts underneath Otabek. “Yessss,” he says contentedly, voice barely above a whisper. Otabek strokes a hand soothingly along Yuri’s side and starts rocking into him, a slow, unhurried act designed to temper the current of arousal flooding through them, rather than working directly towards climax.

 

He quickly loses himself in the feel of Yuri, chest pressed tight against his back and cock buried deep inside of him. They stay connected for what feels like hours, until Otabek doesn’t think he could say where he ends and Yuri begins. His orgasm builds slowly, like a wave that starts far out to sea, and when they finally, _finally_ find their release together, Otabek feels like he’s flying.

 

* * *

 

**_Three months later_ **

 

“It’s okay, we can try again some other time.” Yuri’s voice is dangerously neutral as he loops the long length of rope around his elbow and palm to get it organized before stowing it in the bottom of Otabek’s wardrobe.

 

Out of sight, out of mind. If only it were that easy.

 

Otabek sits slumped on the end of the bed, head in his hands, too ashamed to look up and meet Yuri’s gaze. They’re both completely naked, but the situation they’ve found themselves in couldn’t feel less sexual if it tried. This is the second time they’ve tried to use ropes in a scene since their big argument. The first time had gone badly. This time has somehow managed to go even worse.

 

Otabek still isn’t quite sure what happened; one minute everything was fine, he remembers seeing Yuri kneeling happily in front of him, remembers feeling the rope sliding between his fingers as he started to tie Yuri up like he’s done so many times in the past. He’d even managed to bind Yuri’s whole body without problem, which was better than the first time they’d tried to revisit this kink, but as soon as he’d stepped back to appraise his handiwork everything had just...fallen apart.

 

It’s not that he’s afraid of hurting Yuri again, not any more. They’ve talked through that point so many times by now that Otabek knows without doubt where Yuri’s physical limits lie, and he’s sure he won’t get even close to breaching them any time soon. It wasn’t fear that halted Otabek in his tracks, it was discomfort. Deep, visceral discomfort that had the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

 

The thing is, every time they’d played with bondage in the past Otabek had been so overwhelmed by just how _beautiful_ Yuri looked tied up for him. The sight of Yuri’s stunning body on display for his eyes only, wide expanses of unmarked skin broken up by line after line of coarse rope; it was a visual delight, and combined with the emotional reaction to Yuri being in such a vulnerable state and completely under his control, it used to be enough to get Otabek rock hard in a matter of moments.

 

But this time, when Otabek looked down at Yuri’s body trussed up like a christmas turkey, it had just felt _wrong_. There was none of the visceral pleasure that used to come from seeing Yuri restrained, not even a hint of arousal simmering underneath his skin. His libido had decided that it was simply not interested in this visual image any more, and replaced all hint of appreciation for Yuri’s bound form with a deep, unrelenting unease.

 

He’d tugged on the end of the quick release knot before he’d even fully thought about what he was doing, feeling like he’d only be able to breathe properly again when Yuri’s body was no longer draped in rope. Yuri had been so confused, Otabek’s lack of a safeword leaving him unsure about whether this was all part of the scene or whether his boyfriend was tapping out. Again.

 

“I’m sorry,” Otabek apologizes for what feels like the hundredth time. It’s not just the fact that that he couldn’t handle the restraints, although he does feel terrible about that too, but it’s also the fact that he didn’t even manage to close out the scene properly. There are so many ways he could have handled the whole situation better and he just … hadn’t.

 

Yuri must think he’s such a waste of space right now.

 

“Stop it,” Yuri says, voice harsher than he probably intends it to be. He sits down on the bed next to Otabek and rubs their shoulders together, but doesn’t say anything else.

 

For a long while the two of them just sit in silence, both processing the abrupt ending of their scene in their own way.

 

“We can try again another time,” Yuri eventually says again with a firm nod, and Otabek knows that he means for it to sound reassuring, but his insides crumple at the suggestion.

 

“I don’t...I’m not sure I want to,” he forces himself to admit, trying not to shy away from Yuri’s shocked stare.

 

“What do you mean?” Yuri asks. It’s clearly a struggle for him to keep his voice neutral. Otabek can’t really blame him.

 

“Ropes...bondage...it just doesn’t feel good any more.” Otabek waves his hand vaguely at the cupboard where the hateful rope is now coiled, wondering if Yuri understands what he means.

 

“The sight of me tied up doesn’t turn you on?” Despite his efforts to stay impartial there’s no denying the hurt that laces Yuri’s voice at the suggestion.

 

Otabek shrugs, unable to admit it out loud but knowing that his lack of response in itself speaks volumes.

 

“Oh,” Yuri says sounding lost. Like he never, not even for a moment, considered that Otabek’s aversion to bondage might be a permanent thing.

 

“I’m sorry,” Otabek doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t think there are any words that will make this better.

 

“Stop saying that!” Yuri snaps, but Otabek knows that his anger is just a foil for his hurt. He watches as Yuri takes a long, deep breath, then straightens his shoulder and turns to Otabek with purpose. “Okay, well that’s that then. We move on.”

 

“Yuri…” Otabek begins, but Yuri cuts him off abruptly.

 

“No, don’t. It’s fine. I don’t need bondage to be part of our dynamic, so we just … move on.”

 

Otabek can hear the lie in the crispness of his tone, in the set of his head, but Yuri’s eyes are fire-bright, challenging Otabek to contest his claim.

 

So he just lets out a soft huff, and reaches out tentatively to wrap an arm around Yuri’s shoulders. For a moment Yuri tenses, and Otabek wonders if he’ll pull away from him completely. Then he goes pliant against Otabek’s side, burrowing into his chest.

 

“It’s fine, I don’t need it,” he mumbles again into Otabek’s pec, and Otabek doesn’t know which of them he’s trying to convince.

 

* * *

 

Otabek wakes up the next morning to an empty bed. For a moment his heart stutters in his chest - has Yuri decided that last night was the final straw and left him for good? - but his fears are quickly assuaged when he hears clattering and stomping just on the other side of the door.

 

He emerges from the bedroom bleary eyed and wearing just a pair of sweatpants, and is immediately confronted by a wide-eyed Yuri who looks like he’s been mainlining caffeine.

 

“Oh good, you’re finally awake,” Yuri exclaims, shoving a half-drunk cup of coffee into Otabek’s hands before bounding away to stir at something in a frying pan in the kitchen. “I’ve been doing research all night, but I got hungry so decided to make eggs. You don’t mind do you? I figured you wouldn’t since it’s not like you ever cook anything in your fridge anyway.”

 

“Yuri,” Otabek begins, sneaking a look down at his watch as he takes a sip of coffee. “It’s...five am.” He takes another, longer swig of coffee. He thinks he’s going to need it.

 

“Well you know what they say, the early bird catches the worm. Or the spreader bar.” Yuri cackles maniacally to himself as he dishes up the food from the frying pan and starts shovelling it into his mouth on the way back to the table. He drops the empty plate onto the table with a clatter and pulls his laptop closer towards him, starting to type frantically.

 

“Okay, slow down, you’ve lost me,” Otabek tries again, moving to sit down opposite Yuri at the table.

 

Yuri huffs loudly, the breath of air causing his fringe to flutter outwards. “You said that ropes didn’t turn you on any more,” he says, like he’s trying to explain something to a six year old. “But that doesn’t mean that there aren’t other types of bondage you might still enjoy. I’m telling you, there’s _so_ much kinky shit out there Beka, I’m sure we’ll find something that floats your boat.”

 

Panic twists in Otabek’s gut. Yuri looks so excited, so enthusiastic about this new plan of his, and he worries that it’s all going to be for naught. What if nothing Yuri suggests appeals to him? He doesn’t think he’ll be able to stand the hurt on his boyfriend’s face if that’s the case.

 

His indecision must show on his face, because Yuri stops typing and looks at Otabek, suddenly serious. He reaches over to clasp Otabek’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Hey, no pressure, okay?” he says softly, “If nothing here interests you then that’s fine, I swear. But I figure, what’s the harm in trying right?”

 

Otabek lets out a deep, steadying breath. Yuri is right, of course. He’s never been a quitter before, no sense in starting now. “Okay,” he says, trying to sound more confident than he feels. “Show me what you’ve found.”

 

Yuri grins that wide, excitable grin of his that usually promises trouble, and withdraws his hand so that he can spin his laptop around. “I figure I can show you some pictures, and you can say if any of them seem...tempting.”

 

“So we’re going to view porn together?” Otabek questions, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

 

“I don’t think it counts as porn if it’s for research,” Yuri says, completely missing the point Otabek was trying to make.

 

Yuri starts up a slideshow of images that are _definitely_ pornographic, and it only takes a few pictures for Otabek to notice a strong similarity between the men on display.

 

“Yuri, did you intentionally pick people that look like you?” Otabek asks as Yuri pauses on yet another lithe, blonde boy, this one restrained using what looks like edible string.

 

Yuri blushes but raises his chin defiantly. “I wanted you to have a good mental image of what it would look like,” he says, and Otabek can’t help but be charmed by the gesture. It’s really quite thoughtful.

 

“Well, none of them are as attractive as you, so I guess I’ll still have to use my imagination a little,” he replies, grinning when Yuri flushes practically scarlet.

 

Yuri flicks through a truly impressive range of pictures - he’s definitely done his homework - and while none of them fill Otabek with the same discomfort that he felt yesterday, none of them manage to elicit anything more than vague interest within him either. He makes a appreciative noise over few that he’d be willing to try; spreader bars, bondage tape, a complicated-looking harness thing, and Yuri dutifully notes everything down like a secretary at the world’s most bizarre board meeting.

 

He’s starting to give up hope of finding anything that truly interests him, when a picture flicks up that has his heart skipping a beat. Another lanky blonde (obviously), suspended from the ceiling by heavy duty cuffs attached to a metal chain. His body is stretched taut, his toes barely making contact with the ground, and Otabek struggles to remember how to breathe as he takes in the toned lines of flesh, stretched to their limit and held in place by the combination of metal and gravity.

 

“That,” he says breathlessly, pointing at the screen. “Let’s try that.”

 

Yuri cranes his head around the laptop screen to see what has taken Otabek’s fancy, face breaking out into a big grin as he recognizes the picture displayed. “Mmmm, yes please,” he says, licking his lips in appreciation. He jots down a note and underlines it three times for good measure, before turning back to the computer and making to click through to the next picture.

 

Otabek catches his hand in midair, wrapping his fingers possessively around Yuri’s wrist as he stands up. “We’ll go through the rest later,” he practically growls, heat flooding through his body and cock swelling in his pants as his brain is suddenly awash with mental images. They still have plenty of time before they’re due at practice, thanks to Yuri’s freakishly early start this morning, and Otabek wants his boy. Now.

 

“Yes, _sir_ ,” Yuri agrees happily, tone more than a little smug as he allows Otabek to tow him back to the bedroom.

 

* * *

 

**_Six Months Later_ **

 

The sun is low in the sky by the time they make it home from dinner. Otabek had booked a table at Yuri’s favorite restaurant for his birthday, and invited the rest of the Russian team to celebrate with them. Yuri had claimed to be disappointed that he didn’t get to spend the evening with just his boyfriend, but Otabek hadn’t missed the way his eyes had turned glassy when they arrived at the restaurant to a full table of people wishing him happy birthday.

 

They’re pleasantly buzzed on the combination of good food, good company and good alcohol, and barely make it through the door before they’re coming together for a heated kiss.

 

Otabek groans as Yuri practically throws himself at him, smashing their mouths together urgently as he kicks the door closed behind them. He lets his mouth slip open, allowing Yuri to claim him as his hands slide round Yuri’s waist, trailing possessively down his sides to cup at the round swell of his ass. With a grunt he lifts Yuri off the floor, fingertips digging into soft flesh as he grinds them together. Yuri gasps against Otabek’s lips and wraps his legs around his waist to support himself, one hand circling round Otabek’s neck while the other tangles in his hair.

 

Otabek walks them over to the sofa, barely coming up for air as Yuri plunders his mouth with wild abandon. He gently lays Yuri on the cushions, following his boyfriend down so that their bodies are pressed together, hands roaming freely as their kisses turn more languid and less frenzied.

 

After what feels like an eternity Otabek finally breaks the kiss, laughing and covering Yuri’s mouth with his hand when the younger boy whines and tries to reclaim his lips with his own. “Before we get completely distracted,” Otabek says with a soft laugh, “Do you want your present?”

 

“P- Present?” Yuri asks, voice breathless from kissing as Otabek shuffles off the sofa, disappearing into his bedroom so that he can retrieve the middling-sized box from the bottom of his closet.

 

“Of course,” Otabek says as he returns with the box, nudging Yuri’s legs out of the way so that he can sit down next to him on the sofa rather than sprawling on top of him. “You didn’t think I wouldn’t get you a present, did you?” He waits until Yuri has pushed himself up into a sitting position before handing over the box, decorated with a big red bow in the center of the lid. He watches as Yuri hesitantly pries off the lid, and hears his breath hitch as he realizes what’s in the box.

 

“Oh...oh Beka…” Yuri says wondrously, hand instinctively reaching out to touch the red leather cuffs nestled in tissue paper. He draws back just before his fingers make contact, looking up questioningly at Otabek.

 

Otabek grins, nudging the box closer. “You can touch, they’re yours after all.”

 

“They’re beautiful,” Yuri says, voice soft as he lightly caresses the nearest cuff with his index finger. They’re thick, made of supple italian leather, tanned a dark mahogany and padded with soft sheepskin. They also cost Otabek more of his last sponsorship check than he cares to admit, but he considers every cent well spent when Yuri looks up at him with tears pooling in the corners of his eyes.

 

“Beka,” Yuri says again, voice breaking on the last syllable, and Otabek can’t hold back any longer. He dives forwards, box squashing awkwardly between them as he captures Yuri’s lips with his own once more. He reaches up to bracket Yuri’s face with his hands as he allows the kiss to deepen, devouring Yuri his with tongue and teeth.

 

He only breaks the kiss when he starts to feel lightheaded, and they both pull away reluctantly, panting heavily. Otabek caresses Yuri’s cheek affectionately, then reaches down to pull out the cuffs.

 

“Want to play?” he asks, mouth quirked in a teasing smile.

 

“ _Fuck_ yes,” Yuri replies, and the pure, unbridled desire in his voice goes straight to Otabek’s cock. He has to shift in his seat to relieve some of the sudden pressure against the front of his pants, masking his movement by reaching over to pull the cuffs out of the box.

 

“Hold out your hands for me,” he says, and Yuri hastily sticks both arms out in front of him.

 

Otabek slips the supple leather around Yuri’s outstretched wrists and tightens the straps so that they’re sitting snugly against Yuri’s skin. He lifts Yuri’s bound hands with both of his and presses a soft, reverent kiss to each palm, lips lingering for just a moment longer than needed.

 

He hears Yuri’s breath hitch at the contact and grins as he releases his hands so that he can take the second item out of the box. He wonders if Yuri even noticed it the first time he looked. Judging by the widening of Yuri’s eyes as he starts to undo the fastening on the larger piece, he thinks probably not.

 

He holds out the wide collar in offering, leather stretched flat and ready to be wrapped around Yuri’s neck. Yuri stares wide-eyed down at the piece, gaze flicking from the collar up to Otabek and back again. Slowly, so slowly, he leans forward so that his throat is just touching the sheepskin lining, eyes dropped to the floor in submission. He holds perfectly still as Otabek wraps the collar around his neck and fastens the buckle at the nape of his neck.

 

“How does it feel?” Otabek asks, slipping one finger inside the collar to make sure it’s not going to restrict Yuri’s breathing. Yuri’s gaze darts back up to him. His pupils are blown, splotches of color high on his cheeks as he stares in wonder back at Otabek.

 

“Like I’m yours,” he replies, voice thick with emotion.

 

Otabek feels heat coil hot and possessive in his belly at Yuri’s words. He tugs lightly at the collar with his finger, and Yuri whimpers at the gentle pressure. “Happy Birthday, my Yura,” he whispers, grinning as Yuri’s eyes flutter closed and his mouth slips into a soft, innocent smile. So rare to see on the Ice Tiger of Russia, at least outside of these four walls.

 

He stretches Yuri out on the sofa again, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses to the thin line of skin between jawline and collar as he tugs off Yuri’s boxers and jeans in one movement. In retrospect, it probably would have been better to remove Yuri’s shirt _before_ putting the cuffs on, but Otabek is loathe to take them off so soon after putting them on in the first place, so he settles for unbuttoning the garment and pushing it off Yuri’s shoulders to expose his muscled torso.

 

“So beautiful,” he murmurs as he drops his head to start lavishing attention on Yuri’s body, sucking and biting at one of Yuri’s nipples and drawing out some truly beautiful moans from his boyfriend before moving lower.

 

He starts to suck a hickey into Yuri’s hipbone, and has to use one hand to hold Yuri down as he bucks up into the sensation. His other hand slips down to Yuri’s cock and starts stroking along his length, firm and with purpose.

 

“Ah, ah, _ahh,_ ” Yuri’s gasps are quick and harried, and Otabek knows it won’t be long before he reaches his peak. Good, that was the plan. He speeds up his movements, continuing to pepper Yuri’s abdomen with kisses as he works.

 

“Ah, fuck, _Beka_ ,” Yuri moans, and Otabek knows that inflection all too well.

 

“Come for me,” he growls, lips still pressed against Yuri’s skin, and the younger boy keens as his release spurts over Otabek’s fist.

 

He can hear Yuri panting heavily above him in the wake of his orgasm, but he doesn’t slow his movements. Instead, he slides up Yuri’s length to rub his palm over the tip, collecting the hot liquid pooled there. He uses the extra slick as lubricant as he continues to rub his boyfriend’s still hard cock, actions merciless as he keeps his boyfriend right on the edge.

 

“Oh...oh no,” Yuri whines, whole body tensing as he realizes what Otabek has in store for him tonight. His bound hands loop around Otabek’s neck, and his fingers start to scrabble at his back as he unconsciously thrusts against Otabek’s hand. “Beka, Beka please,” he gasps as Otabek continues to pump him mercilessly.

 

It takes longer for Yuri to reach his second climax, but not as long as one might expect. Yuri has always had a startlingly quick refractory period, something that Otabek has taken advantage of on more than one occasion. After he’s spurted a second time Otabek drops his head lower and starts to use his mouth, tongue eagerly licking up the remains of his release before sucking him deep into his throat.

 

“Fuck,” Yuri whines, body rocking feebly against Otabek’s ministrations. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.”

 

Otabek takes it slower the next time, his mouth patient and soothing and in direct contrast to his hand. It takes almost half an hour for Yuri to come for a third time, a dribble of semen spurting weakly onto Otabek’s mouth. He swallows it down with an appreciative moan regardless.

 

“Beka, no more, please,” Yuri moans as Otabek pops off his cock and licks his lips, his jaw aching pleasantly from such a long session.

 

“One more,” he counters, dropping his head to lick a long stripe from balls to tip.

 

“Ah, ah, yellow!” Yuri exclaims, and Otabek immediately draws away, ducking out of the circle of Yuri’s arms so that he can put some space between them.

 

He stares down at Yuri sprawled out on the couch underneath him, takes in his debauched frame, the way his chest is heaving like he’s run a marathon. He registers what he’s reduced his boyfriend to, hears the safeword echo in his ears, and waits for the panic to set in.

 

It never comes.

 

Yuri looks wrecked, there’s no denying that, but it’s a good kind of wrecked. The kind that will leave him relaxed and easy for the next few days. There’s a hint of a smile on Yuri’s lips, his expression sated more than anything else. Otabek thinks he should be feeling more anxiety in the wake of Yuri safewording, but he just can’t bring himself to feel it when everything seems so... okay.

 

“I can do one more,” Yuri says, voice breathless but unstressed. “I just...I just need a break.”

 

Oh. Right. Of course.

 

Yellow means pause, it means time out. It means take a step back and check in to make sure everyone is still on the same page. Yuri doesn’t want to stop completely, he just needs to take a break. That’s fine, that’s good. There’s nothing wrong with the scene.

 

Otabek drops a soft kiss to Yuri’s forehead, finger stroking gently along his jawline. “Of course, my Yura,” he says warmly, and the smile that blossoms across Yuri’s face makes his heart stutter.

 

Yuri takes a few minutes getting his body back under control, waits for his breathing to settle into a more normal rhythm before nodding at Otabek. “Okay, okay, green. I’m good now,” he says firmly, and Otabek knows he doesn’t need to ask if he’s sure.

 

He takes him slowly, reverently the fourth time, with his hand massaging the base of Yuri’s cock while his tongue laps over the tip. Yuri keens brokenly when he comes, barely a drop of liquid release on Otabek’s tongue. He really has worked him dry.

 

He carries Yuri through to the bedroom after that, laying him out on the bed before gently removing the cuffs from around his wrists. Yuri whimpers and shies away when Otabek tries to remove the collar from around his neck, so he leaves that on as he strips off Yuri’s shirt and cleans him up with a warm washcloth.

 

After he’s sure Yuri has been well taken care of he strips off his own clothes and joins Yuri in bed, folding the younger boy into his side and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Yuri mumbles happily at the position, wriggling a little to get comfortable.

 

The first tendrils of sleep are fluttering at the edges of Otabek’s consciousness when an unexpected thought comes to him.

 

“You’ve never needed a break from that sort of play before,” he comments lazily, fingers tracing patterns on Yuri’s biceps so that Yuri knows he doesn’t mind the fact that he did. When Yuri doesn’t react he shuffles them slightly so that he can see Yuri’s face, one eyebrow raised in consideration. “You know,” he says slowly, the dots starting to connect in his sleep hazy brain. “A lesser man might wonder if their submissive was trying to remind their dominant of exactly how safewords are supposed to work.”

 

Yuri doesn’t reply to that either, but Otabek swears he sees a hint of a smug smile on his boyfriend’s face as he burrows himself even deeper into Otabek’s armpit.

 

* * *

 

**_Twelve Months Later_ **

 

Otabek takes a deep, steadying breath as he checks over his appearance once more in the mirror, eyes periodically flicking to the closed bedroom door that’s just within his line of sight.

 

With his skintight jeans, leather jacket and artfully slicked hair, he exudes the same raw confidence that he feels standing behind a DJ deck, lost to the pumping rhythm of the club and the swaying bodies inside of it. It’s not a costume, but it is a persona of sorts, one Otabek is all too happy to adopt tonight, to give Yuri what he most desires.

 

It is also far too warm for him to be wearing inside, with the heating in his apartment cranked high to ward off the first flushes of the Russian winter curling in under the door and through the windows, but that discomfort pales into insignificance when pitted against the almost predatory anticipation coursing through his veins.

 

He glances at the door again, forcing himself to count slowly to a hundred before moving. He takes the time to fix an errant strand of hair that is seeking to escape his carefully crafted look; impatience has no place in tonight’s activities. He reaches a hundred and then adds another ten for good measure. He made Yuri swear he would be ready for him when he enters the bedroom, and he doesn’t want to have to start tonight off with punishment if he ends up walking in before Yuri is ready.

 

That’s not what tonight is about, after all.

 

Eventually he allows his feet to take him over to the bedroom door, pushing it open without warning. The sight he’s greeted with knocks the air from his lungs, and he finds himself gripping the doorframe tightly, just incase his legs decide to give out on him. It wouldn’t be an unreasonable response, not when Yuri - beautiful, breathtaking Yuri - is kneeling completely naked in the middle of the room, soft candlelight reflecting off his skin in mesmerizing waves, a beacon of light radiating from an ethereal beauty.

 

His head is bowed, hands clasped in his lap in front of him. He doesn’t look up when Otabek enters, but Otabek doesn’t miss the way his body tenses in anticipation. It probably feels like he’s been waiting for hours, even though Otabek know he was only outside for twenty minutes at most. He should have known he didn’t need to worry about entering before Yuri was ready for him. He never does have to worry about Yuri, not anymore.

 

“Look at you,” Otabek says, voice rumbling through the silence of the room, seeping into every nook and cranny until his presence has saturated the small space. “Waiting so nicely for me. You’d wait all night for me if I asked you to, wouldn’t you?”

 

He starts to walk forward as he speaks, letting the door swing closed behind him as he moves to stand in front of Yuri. He’s close enough now that he can see Yuri’s chest rising and falling in short, sharp bursts, the only physical indication that Yuri is not quite as placid as his position makes him out to be.

 

“Answer me, Yura,” Otabek commands, fingers tangling in Yuri’s hair and tugging sharply so that the younger boy is forced to tip his head to meet Otabek’s gaze.

 

“Yes, yes sir,” Yuri practically mewls, eyes already starting to glaze over with lust. He’s been begging for a scene like this for weeks, and the suspense of waiting has clearly started to get to him. “Whatever you want from me, it’s yours.”

 

Otabek holds Yuri’s gaze for a moment, then bends down to press a short, claiming kiss to his lips. Yuri whimpers and melts into Otabek’s touch, but Otabek pulls away before the kiss has a chance to really take form, ignoring the whine of protest from his boy in response.

 

“Shhh, all in good time,” he promises, snaking the hand that was in Yuri’s hair down to caress his cheek instead. With his other hand he reaches out to pick up Yuri’s red cuffs, strategically placed just next to where Yuri is kneeling.

 

“Arms,” he orders, grinning in satisfaction as Yuri instantly complies. Wrists together, palms turned upwards in offering.

 

He wraps the cuffs around each wrist, tightening the buckles so that they fit snugly. “Too tight?” he asks, tugging on the small metal ring joining the cuffs together to check the binding.

 

Yuri shakes his head rapidly. “Perfect,” he replies. Otabek wonders if he’s getting to that stage where more than single word answers are challenging. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time, but it probably would be the quickest.

 

“Neck,” he says as he picks up the matching collar, and Yuri eagerly stretches so that Otabek can reach up and wrap the soft leather around the long column of flesh, fastening the buckle at the front so that it rests just lightly on his adam’s apple. He sits back on his heels and takes a moment to admire his handiwork.

 

“So beautiful”, he reiterates, leaning forwards to press a chaste, closed mouth kiss to Yuri’s lips.

 

He’s suddenly so stupidly, overwhelmingly grateful that Yuri didn’t let them both give up on the idea of bondage back when things were difficult. Otabek’s usually not a big subscriber to the ‘everything happens for a reason’ school of thought, but in this particular instance he can’t help but think about whether they would have bothered to explore alternatives to ropes had the situation not so desperately called for it. After all, while previously they had toyed with dinky stripper handcuffs, and maybe a few silk scarves here and there, it had never felt like there was a particularly pressing need to delve any deeper when ropes held such a myriad of possibilities all on their own. But now, now their repertoire includes spreader bars, and lengths of fabric so wide they’re practically swaddling, and delightfully strange custom-made devices created by private workshops in Europe. The possibilities, as they say, are endless.

 

Plus, it turns out that Yuri really, _really_ likes handcuffs.

 

He stares down at his boyfriend, so similar and yet so different from the Yuri of a year ago. They’ve come such a long way since then, building up their arsenal of kinks once more; discovering what works for them both and what still needs more time. They’ve been working towards the scene they have planned for tonight for a while now, and Otabek can’t wait to get started.

 

Judging by the flushed hardness of Yuri’s cock bobbing in front of him, he has a feeling Yuri is just as impatient.

 

He draws his hand away from Yuri’s cheek, ignoring the whine of protest as he crosses to the other side of the room to pick up the flogger that is sitting on the desk in preparation for their scene. It’s a beautiful instrument, with a slender leather handle and two dozen thin, braided tails. He taps the end of the handle lightly against his palm as he moves to stand in front of Yuri again.

 

“Do you want this?” he asks as he lightly strokes the tails across Yuri’s face, catching briefly on his nose and lips before falling away. Yuri shudders and his eyes flutter closed at the sensation.

  
“Yes, sir,” he replies breathlessly, and Otabek can’t help smiling at how eagerly Yuri submits to him.

 

“Are you going to be good for me?” Otabek presses, flipping the flogger over in his hand so that the bulbous end of the handle is resting lightly against Yuri’s lower lip.

 

“ _Yes, sir_ ,” Yuri repeats, voice strained as he struggles to hold himself still.

 

“I do hope so,” Otabek says, tone almost conversational as he taps the handle lightly against Yuri’s lip. “Because if you’re good for me while I have fun with the other end, then I’ll reward you by filling you up with this end. Does that sounds good?”

 

The moan that slips from Yuri’s lips is practically obscene, and his eyes quite literally roll into the back of his head at the suggestion.

 

“Answer me, Yura,” Otabek orders, voice hardening as he taps again with the handle.

 

“Yes, oh god yes, please, Beka. I’ll be so good for you I swear,” Yuri babbles eagerly, hips thrusting against the air to emphasise his point.

 

“Very good,” Otabek says, pushing the handle between Yuri’s lips and into his mouth proper. “Now, suck.”

 

Yuri fellates the leather handle eagerly, showing it the same devotion he would if it were Otabek’s cock between his lips instead. Otabek indulges him for a few minutes, enjoying the view as Yuri works to take the full length of the object into his mouth. It’s nowhere near as wide as Otabek, but it certainly is longer, and Yuri is taking it magnificently. He pulls the handle out just before Yuri starts to choke himself on it, quieting his whines of protest with a firm kiss before moving to stand behind him.

 

He runs the tails of the flogger lightly across Yuri’s shoulders, smiling at the full body shudder the gesture elicits. “Eyes front,” he commands as he snakes the flogger down to trace over the curve of Yuri’s ass. “This is not a punishment, you may request to stop at any time by using the words stop, pause, or any of your safewords. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Yuri replies, eyes obediently trained on the wall in front of him.

 

“Good boy,” Otabek praises, dropping down to press a kiss to Yuri’s cheek before straightening up and rolling his shoulders in anticipation. “Okay, let’s begin.”

 

The first strike is barely more than a fleeting touch, a quick kiss with the ends of the tails across the meaty flesh of Yuri’s right shoulder, but Yuri lets out a loud moan and slumps forward like Otabek has put his entire weight behind the blow. Otabek strokes his fingers along the skin he’s just hit, not even warm from the impact, and smiles to himself at the reaction he’s managed to draw out of the younger boy.

 

“Does that feel good?” he asks, already knowing the answer as he walks his fingers up to card though Yuri’s hair. For all that Yuri talks a good game about wanting to experience intense impact play, Otabek has come to realize that what really sets Yuri off is the anticipation, the build-up, and then the act of delivery. It turns out it doesn’t actually matter whether it’s a gentle caress or a full strength blow, Yuri melts exactly the same.

 

It took Otabek a long time to work that one out, especially since Yuri would deny it to his dying breath, but now that he knows he doesn’t have to push himself to his limit when it comes to inflicting pain on his boyfriend, it’s a joy to be able to give Yuri exactly what he needs. As the age-old saying goes, it’s not the size (or the strength) of the flogger, it’s what you do with it that counts.

 

True to form Yuri only whimpers in response, lost to the feeling of leather across his back. Otabek untangles his fingers and steps away so that he can land another blow across Yuri’s opposite shoulder, and the sounds that Yuri starts to make have him instantly hardening in his tight jeans.

 

He sets up a steady but unrelenting rhythm, making sure to pay equal attention to all parts of Yuri’s back. He keeps his actions light, aggravating Yuri’s flesh to a light pink but no further, while Yuri whimpers and gasps and makes all the right noises to keep Otabek’s arousal flared.

 

He lands a strike that wraps around Yuri’s ribcage, and Yuri cries out as he slumps forward, resting his weight on his forearms as his head bows to touch the ground. Otabek briefly considers chastising him for breaking form, but the change in position has presented Yuri’s pert ass to him, raised above the line of his spine practically in offering. He tilts his head to the side, brushing the flogger lightly over the swell of Yuri’s asscheek in consideration. Since the opportunity has presented itself, so to speak, it seems a shame to waste it.

 

He brings the flogger down over the line of Yuri’s ass, one of the tails catching the edge of his exposed hole, and Yuri shrieks in response. Otabek watches with satisfaction as Yuri’s whole body shudders, his tight hole flexing and unflexing in response to the unexpected stimulation.

 

“Shhh, you’re alright,” he croons as he takes pity on Yuri, stroking a hand soothingly down his spine in reassurance as he watches the younger boy struggle to get his emotions under control.

 

“Yes...yes sir,” Yuri replies, and his voice sounds wet, like he’s holding back tears. Not so long ago Otabek might have panicked at the obvious pain in his boyfriend’s tone, would have prompted him for his safeword or even broken character to ask if he was okay. Otabek knows better than that now, though. He’s learned to put his faith in Yuri again, trust in his ability to use their safewords when needed. Until Yuri tells him it’s too much, he won’t assume otherwise.

 

Besides, he’s been around Yuri long enough now to know what real distress sounds like in his boyfriend’s voice. Like when Yuri had come in fourth at Rostelecom and Otabek had found him sitting glassy-eyed in the middle of a demolished hotel room, or when Yuuri had announced his retirement and Yuri had hurled the most horrendous obscenities at the Japanese skater before storming off and refusing to train for three days. That had been Yuri hurting. This? This is him soaring.

 

Otabek traces his hand down Yuri’s spine to tease at the warm pucker of his hole, watching mesmerized as it flutters under his touch. “Somebody’s eager,” he comments to the room at large, ignoring the loud moan from Yuri in response.

 

He bends to pick up the lube conveniently placed in arm’s reach, slicking up two fingers and pressing one into Yuri without warning. Yuri keens, his hole instinctively tightening around Otabek’s digit before he forces himself to relax and accept the intrusion. Otabek croons soft reassurances as he works Yuri open enough to add a second finger, this one slipping in with barely any resistance.

 

“So good for me,” he praises, scissoring his fingers while Yuri pants and shudders underneath him. “Taking everything I give you so well.” He draws his fingers out, ignoring Yuri’s whine of protest at suddenly being empty, and dispenses a liberal amount of lube onto the handle of the flogger. He quickly slicks up the entirety of its length, and then presses the rounded end to Yuri’s entrance. “You’re going to take this just as well, aren’t you Yura?”

 

“Ooooh,” Yuri moans as his hole momentarily resists the blunt pressure, putting up little more than a token fight before before succumbing and allowing the end of the handle to breach the tight ring of muscle. The thinner part of the handle easily slips in after the rounded end, until over half of it is seated inside of Yuri.

 

Otabek holds the flogger in place, allowing Yuri the time he needs to get used to the intrusion. When Yuri’s breaths start to even out he begins to pump the handle in and out, keeping his movements slow and rhythmical. “Tell me how it feels,” he commands.

 

“So….so good,” Yuri gasps, fingers scrabbling desperately at the carpet underneath him. “It’s... _oh_...it’s so deep inside me.”

 

“This is only half of it, would you like more?” It’s a bit of a lie; there’s probably about three quarters of the handle inside Yuri at this point, but Otabek knows exactly what the mental image will do to Yuri. Sure enough Yuri wails at the suggestion, arching his back and flexing his ass in a brazen attempt to suck more of the instrument inside of him.

 

“Yes... _yes_ Beka. Give me it, give me all of it. I... _oh god_...I want more.” Yuri’s babbling has taken on a hysterical tinge, and Otabek shushes him with a firm squeeze of his asscheek.

 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You know I’ll give you exactly what you need,” he says, before driving the handle home in one smooth motion, until the hilt is nestled snugly between Yuri’s cheeks.

 

Yuri howls and writhes at the sudden fullness, and Otabek lets go of the flogger so that it swishes back and forth in time with Yuri’s movements. “Hold it in,” he commands, forcing himself to not let the arousal he’s feeling color his voice. It’s a struggle though, Yuri does look so very beautiful filled to the brim like this.

 

“It looks like you have a tail,” he adds conversationally, grinning darkly as Yuri keens at the suggestion, head dropping to hit the floor again as his emotions clearly start to the better of him.

 

He leaves the flogger buried inside Yuri’s ass as he moves to stand in front of him again, hands trailing up his spine and into his hair as he circles the boy. “Do you like that?” he asks, still keeping his voice light and airy even as the dominant creature inside of him purrs in satisfaction. Yuri can only whimper and nod his head, but for once Otabek doesn’t make him use his words.

 

“Maybe we should get you some matching ears, and a bell for that pretty collar of yours, and you can show me just what a good pet you are, hmmm?” He scratches behind Yuri’s ear, like he would a dog, and barely suppresses a laugh as Yuri’s legs give out underneath him, sending his body thumping to the floor and making the flogger inside of him twitch and dance.

 

“I think he likes that idea,” he comments to the room at large again, and the affirmative moan from Yuri vibrates through his entire body.

 

He crouches down so that he can slip his fingers underneath Yuri’s chin, lifting his head so that it’s no longer pillowed on the floor. Yuri’s eyes are starting to glaze over, his lips a plush red from where he’s clearly been gnawing on them. Otabek tuts in mock disappointment, “Come on now, Yura, I’m not finished with you yet.”

 

He unzips his jeans just enough to pull his cock free of its confines, keeping his actions slow and unhurried even though he’s almost painfully aroused by this point. His dick bobs hard and eager in front of him, the sight made even more lewd for the fact that he’s otherwise fully clothed. He watches in satisfaction as Yuri licks his lips hungrily at the sight, rearranging his limbs so that he’s kneeling on his heels with his face in perfect alignment with Otabek’s cock.

 

“Such a good boy for me,” Otabek praises as he takes himself in hand and starts to feed himself through those gorgeously ravaged lips. Yuri takes him easily, tongue flicking out to caress the underside of Otabek’s cock as he slowly pushes forward, stopping when half of his length is in Yuri’s mouth. Yuri can take all of him when he wants, and has demonstrated that skill on more than one occasion, but Otabek isn’t about to choke him without warning.

 

He forces himself to hold still, ignoring the plaintive whines coming from Yuri that vibrate _straight_ down his cock, and takes a couple of deep breaths as he reaches out to caress Yuri’s face, cheeks hollowed and lips stretched wide around his girth. If he’s not careful this is going to be over embarrassingly quickly, and he has other plans for how this night is going to end.

 

Once he’s sure he’s gotten himself under control, he pats Yuri’s cheek once, the signal for Yuri to take the lead. Yuri dutifully starts to bob his head, tongue working the thick vein that runs down the underside of Otabek’s shaft as he slowly takes him deeper and deeper. He hums contentedly to himself, and Otabek gasps as the noise ripples over his sensitive flesh. Yuri opens one eye and grins around the cock in his mouth, clearly knowing exactly what effect the sound has on Otabek.

 

“Brat,” Otabek chides, but he’s working too hard not to show how breathless he’s currently feeling to inject any real sternness into his tone. Judging by the second shit-eating grin Yuri throws at him, he’s reasonably sure he’s not hiding it very well anyway.

 

He lets Yuri work him over for a few more minutes, until his arousal threatens to fully get the better of him and he forces himself to withdraw from the hot, wet, _amazing_ heat that is Yuri’s mouth. Yuri practically sobs as the tip of Otabek’s cock slips from his lips, and he lurches forward to try and reclaim it. Otabek quiets him with a firm hand on his shoulder and a gentle stroke of his fingers along his cheek. “Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he reassures as Yuri pouts up at him, bright blue eyes glassy with unshed tears. “What’s coming next is even better.”

 

He moves around to stand behind Yuri again, his hands repositioning his boy as he moves. Yuri ends up folded practically in two, forearms on the floor and knees tucked up to his chin. His ass points skywards, the tails of the flogger lying along the crack of his ass and down to tease at his balls. Otabek flicks them casually with his fingers, causing Yuri to gasp as the handle jostles Yuri’s insides.

 

“You look so good like this,” Otabek says in appreciation, swishing the tails harder to make Yuri moan again. “So perfectly ruined, all for me. Maybe I should leave you like this; keep you in this position all evening. My very own work of art.”

 

“Beka, Beka _please_ ,” Yuri practically sobs, and Otabek doesn’t know whether he’s begging for Otabek to do it or begging for him not to. Either way it won’t make much difference; Otabek is perfectly happy to tease Yuri with possibilities, but he’s been achingly hard for far too long now. There’s no way that this night doesn’t end with him buried in his boy.

 

He kneels down behind Yuri and grips the base of the flogger, pumping it once before drawing it out. It slides easily, with only a little resistance when the round end catches on the inside of Yuri’s rim. He strokes a soothing hand along Yuri’s spine, muttering light reassurances, and he quickly feels the muscles give way, releasing the handle with a soft squelch.

 

Yuri whimpers as the cool air rushes over his suddenly empty hole, and Otabek doesn’t waste any time in replacing the flogger with his own cock. He lines up and slides home in one smooth motion, seating himself fully inside of Yuri with a long moan.

 

“Fuck. Fuck Yuri, you feel so good,” he gasps, all self control lost as Yuri tight heat envelops him. Yuri moans in agreement, head thumping against his forearms as he tries in-effectually to thrust backward into Otabek’s crotch. It’s a bad angle for Yuri to do anything other than take what Otabek gives him, but luckily for him, Otabek intends to give him everything.

 

He draws out until only the tip of his cock is still inside of Yuri, then drives home again. Breath is punched from two sets of lungs, two pairs of hands scrabble for purchase on whatever they can find, and two pairs of legs threaten to give out underneath them. Otabek can feel the heat of Yuri’s skin through his layers of clothes, knows that the rough scratch of denim against the backs of Yuri’s legs must feel simultaneously unbelievable and unbearable.

 

He braces one foot on the floor next to Yuri’s waist, rising up so that he can fuck down into Yuri with his full weight behind him, and Yuri positively wails as Otabek bottoms out. It feels like he’s carving a path through Yuri’s insides, he’s so hot, and tight, and writhing so wonderfully underneath him. He drapes his torso over Yuri’s back, the sweat that’s been collecting on the other boy’s skin sliding obscenely against the leather of his jacket and making it creak. Yuri’s moans are rising in pitch, not quite enough to drown out the rhythmic pounding of Otabek’s hips connecting with the curve of Yuri’s ass over, and over, and over. It’s a furious, frantic cacophony of sex and Otabek feels like he’s drowning in it.

 

“Ah...ah…oh fuck, fuuuck. Beka…Sir... ‘m gonna...need to come so bad...please... _oh god_... please can I...”

 

“Come for me,” Otabek orders, reaching down to stroke Yuri’s cock which has so far been painfully neglected underneath them. It only takes two strokes before Yuri’s whole body is tensing, spine arched as he spurts stream after stream of milky come onto the floor beneath them. His insides tighten like a vise around Otabek’s cock, and Otabek’s powerless to stop himself from following his boyfriend right over the edge.

 

He collapses exhausted along Yuri’s back, who manages all of three seconds supporting Otabek’s body weight before his own legs give way, and they both end up in a sticky pile on the floor.

 

They both lie panting for a few minutes, neither of them able to gather the strength to move, let alone even consider cleaning up the mess they’ve made. Otabek slowly draws out of Yuri, wincing as their skin seems to stick and catch with every slight movement. Yuri whimpers in discomfort and Otabek runs his fingers through Yuri’s hair in apology. “I know, I know, I’m sorry, nearly there I promise.”

 

Once they’re separated he removes his jacket - the leather might have been sexy moments ago but now it’s just hot and uncomfortable - and gently tilts Yuri’s head so he can meet his gaze. Yuri has a blissed out expression on his face, eyes open but unseeing, and it’s so adorable that Otabek can’t help but drop a fond kiss to Yuri’s mouth.

 

“Love you, Yura, so very much,” he mumbles against Yuri’s lips, his heart so full of joy he thinks it might burst.

 

Yuri doesn’t give any indication of having heard Otabek, so he quickly undoes the buckles on the cuffs and collar adorning Yuri’s flesh, placing the items safely out of the way of the mess they’ve made (he’s simultaneously impressed and horrified by the damage they’ve done to the carpet, but that’s a problem for future Otabek). He then simply scoops Yuri into his arms and starts to walk them towards the bathroom so that they can both clean up.

 

He’s almost at the doorway when Yuri’s lax grip around his neck tightens, and he feels the rumble of Yuri’s chest as he mutters lazily into the side of Otabek’s neck.

  
“Love you too, Beka. Love you the most.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always loved and appreciated. I'm also on [Tumblr](http://sparrow30.tumblr.com/), come say hi!


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